


Healing

by Starrcrossrose



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrcrossrose/pseuds/Starrcrossrose
Summary: Life is about survival.Survival is about strength."Show no weakness."That's all Vegeta has ever known. It's all he would ever know, and all he would ever need.At least, that's what he thought. Until her.Until Bulma.And now, he's learning that strength may not be purely physical. That, maybe, he can be someone new in her presence. But at what cost?(A character study)





	1. A Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome!  
> This is my piece for the Mini-Bang, organized by the lovely Vegebulocracy group! I'm very excited to be a part of an event with them, and I can't wait for everyone to see what I've made, and what my lovely artist [HannahBellLecter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaBellLecter/pseuds/HannaBellLecter) has made!  
> Also a gigantic, HUGE thank you to [bitchytimemachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchytimemachine/pseuds/bitchytimemachine) for being the best beta/editor I could ask for during this event! Sometimes you just need that 2nd pair of eyes and she did a wonderful job. <3  
> Be ready for lots of feels and, once again, thank you for stopping by to read something written by little ol' me.  
> Enjoy!

Rain poured down his body. The liquid was warm, almost acidic. The red lens of his scouter was cracked and missing a chip in the top left corner. Damn it all, this mission was not supposed to be this hard. He had known, somehow, that this was going to happen. That he would end up separated from Nappa and Raditz and fighting all on his own. Not that he minded, most of the time. But during tough jobs like this one, it was always better to do a mass purge together and then split up to wipe out any smaller, remaining groups.

Vegeta wiped a soaked, torn glove across his face, trying to squint through the downpour. The storm was noisy and smelled like the locker rooms on Frieza’s ship. He swallowed a gag and trudged on. At least he wasn’t badly injured, just had a few burns and bruises, maybe a cut or two, but nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He would just have to move quietly, quickly, and use his memory of the planet’s layout to assess where he was. Apparently, all the map studying Zarbon used to make him do actually came in handy.

He flinched at the thought.

Zarbon.

The fucking asshole had set this whole thing up. Vegeta was angry. Really angry. He felt his tail tighten around his waist involuntarily, the hairs bristling as the thought overwhelmed him. He had wanted to believe everything would go as planned, that something in this gods-forsaken universe would go his way. But, like usual, he was left to try and work with broken parts, picking up pieces that didn’t match and trying to fit them together anyway. That was the kind of cruel, debilitating work that Zarbon usually gave them. He always said the work came from Frieza, and while Vegeta didn’t doubt the tyrant got a kick out of his failures, he knew more often than not that Zarbon was handing off shitty, left over jobs to him and his squad. The nerve of that shit-head knew no bounds.

Only, this time, Vegeta was sure that the job had been meant for Zarbon himself. Or the Ginyu Force. They were still stronger than Vegeta - something which he bitterly knew - and there were more numbers in their crew to wipe out a planet this size and with this much resistance. He was starting to think he would be lucky just to make it back in one piece, much less complete the task in the time allotted.

Finally, Vegeta could make out a large, tall tree, whose green canopy of leaves stretched several hundred feet across in every direction. Instantly, he knew where he was and where he had to go. But, first things first, he was going to try and dry off a bit. Maybe fix his scouter. The damn thing had been misfiring energy readings since it cracked, and now it wouldn’t activate the comms so he could check in on the two idiots with him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped they were alive though. Hoped that at least if they failed their job, he wouldn’t be left to face his punishments alone. Wouldn't be the last of his people. Wouldn't...

He shook himself hard, thrashing out to punch a tree as he passed, splintering the bark as if it were paper. It wasn’t small enough to fall over, however, and something about that fact was both enraging and comforting. Didn’t want to give away his position. Didn’t want to die out here. Had to make it to the next day, to get stronger, to be smarter and faster. But, the constant, raging frustration in him was always itching to destroy something. To kill someone.

He hadn’t always been this way, he thought to himself. Used to be the strongest, sure, and used to be curious and witty. Used to be revered, people bowed elegantly whenever he passed them by. He had been so young, almost too young to remember it. And Kami did he sometimes wish he couldn’t remember. It made the loss of his home, his one real source of comfort, more difficult to lose. Ever since, he felt like he had been losing pieces of himself. Losing his mind, losing his control, and losing his heritage. He was a time bomb, just waiting for the right trigger to go off. He had the strongest urges to kill, to do something to end someone's miserable existence. He wished it was his own most days, but his pride kept him alive. He couldn’t die; he was stronger than that. 

He had something to prove.

Vegeta knew he had to prove to everyone on Frieza's main base how wrong they were about him, about his people. They talked all the time about his race. About them being mindless animals who couldn’t do anything for themselves without someone to hold their hand. In fact, as a child, Vegeta had stood up to Frieza countless times about it, and nearly paid with his life each time. It had been years since he attempted such foolishness. 

Reaching the tree’s canopy, the rain finally lightened under the tangle of large leaves. He took to the air just long enough to get his bearings and keep a lookout from a high branch. As he settled onto a somewhat dry branch, he stripped his clothes off to dry. He set his gloves along the branch, then pulled his chest armor over his head and set it between him and the tree's thick trunk. Next, he tugged the skin-tight shirt of his body suit over his head, wincing just slightly at the discomfort of his small wounds. Setting it next to the gloves, he considered removing his pants to dry as well but thought better of it. Not that he minded being naked in a forest like this, but he also didn’t know the area or its inhabitants well enough to trust leaving himself completely exposed. He knew in the back of his head it would be better to leave his entire suit on, but also knew the chill of the wet uniform would be bad for his lungs if left that way for too long. Usually in a situation like this, he would blast around the planet at high speed for a quick dry, but the ki-sensitive aerial weapons on this mud ball were incredibly strong. Flying around like an idiot would only get him hurt or killed.

Removing the scouter from its place on his ear, he frowned down at it. Looking at it from this side, it definitely looked worse for wear. “Dammit,” He muttered. He didn’t have the right tools to fix all the damage, but he would do what he could with just his hands. “I hate this job.”

Vegeta set to work, keeping his senses alert as the rainstorm raged on around him, waiting for anyone to spot him. He only started to relax a little when nearly thirty minutes had passed without his scouter pinging. He could handle that, could handle this quiet for a few moments. He already knew his squad would be late to deliver what Frieza wanted from this place. Hell, he had known it five hours ago. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. At least he wasn’t on the stupid, cold base. The temperature was always freezing and the halls and rooms were as vacant as one could make them. The place was Kami-damn depressing, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t even have any personal items that could be used to liven up his own room. Even if he did, he knew that eventually someone would find out. And then someone would tear it to pieces, just like the did with his life and his honor.

Gritting his teeth, Vegeta tightened the last screw and watched as his scouter finally came on, displaying the numbers and letters of the Colds native language. Gods the language was so plain looking, so ugly and blocky compared to the flowing, almost artistic flow of his own language. A script he had started to forget over the years. The idea of forgetting shamed him gravely, made him have a sort of self-hatred that he tried to stay away from lately. Vegeta may have forgotten it entirely if Nappa and Raditz didn’t speak to him in their native tongue every time they were alone. They had all learned the hard way that, unless speaking the Cold's language or Galactic Standard, they were not to speak any other language, ever. One of the scars along his forehead that traveled up into his hair line was proof, along with a matching one on Nappa and Raditz. They had left dazed, concussed, Vegeta only being about 8 or 9 at the time, but even then, Vegeta had remembered just feeling grateful. Grateful the bastard hadn’t cut their tongues out instead. It had seemed like the kind of thing he would do. Still did. So, they kept their Saiyan language a secret.

He brought the broken glass and headset up to his ear and waited for the device to calibrate his location. He knew the comms were still messed up a bit, but he should be able to get something short patched through to his comrades. If he could call them that.

He was never really sure.

The older he got, the more detached he became. So detached that he viewed the other two Saiyans as only squad members now. Not family… no matter how much they wanted to be. Vegeta knew what families did to those just trying to make it through day-to-day life under Frieza. They made one vulnerable; made them weak. Eventually, they would be lost to him.

He couldn't afford to have a family. The thought was repeated in his mind as he sent a short message containing his coordinates, keeping his voice low in case someone was around. The phrase kept repeating in his head, even as they responded with relief that he was alive, that they would meet up with him soon.

_Can’t afford a family. Can’t afford it with the little amount of credits you received. Can’t afford any feelings, with surviving. Can’t afford a family._

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of relief at their voices as they said they were on their way. Couldn’t help the hope flashing in his chest that they were both alive, at least. He even thought they may have been his friends or family once, if they hadn’t had everything taken from them. But… no. Not in this world. 

He couldn’t have a family.

_You’re alone._

Nearly thirty minutes later, he spotted them flying in, the rain finally starting to let up as he let a ball of ki float above the palm of his hand, brightening before extinguishing it. A signal. He knew they saw it when their figures angled toward him, the small jet-streams of their speed fading as they slowed upon reaching him. Vegeta had already put his clothes and armor back on, having used his now mostly dry gloves to wipe the dirt and blood from his face. He was leaning against the trunk of the tree, arms crossed tight across his chest as he watched them descend to other thick branches nearby. He bit back the urge to say something about not paying attention to their surroundings enough to keep them from being separated, about letting themselves be too blinded by the chaos of this particular battle to keep their heads straight.

_You can scold them later._ He thought to himself, eyeing them as they landed. They were banged up, Nappa having a nasty gash across his lower chest leading down to his thigh, but it looked like the bleeding had mostly stopped. Raditz had his hair tied back, the thick strands coated with blood and dirt, the beginnings of a black eye shading the left side of his face with a sickly blue. Otherwise, they looked alright, at least enough to help him finish their job in one piece.

“Where have you two idiots been?” Vegeta snapped, tempted to let his tail thrash behind him in annoyance but instead going for tightening it around his waist. He didn’t want to show too much of how agitated he had been. How the small thread of worry had started to cut through him. He had to keep it all under control.

_Show no weakness._

“Sorry, Vegeta,” Raditz frowned, squeezing a bit of blood out of his long, black hair with disgust. His tail was now loose and flicking quietly between his legs as he wiped the blood on his armor. “We weren’t expecting to get hit so hard.”

“No shit,” Nappa snapped, lifting off his branch and coming back down, hard, snapping the thing in half as watching as the wood and leaves clattered noisily to the ground. “That damn Zarbon, I’ll kill h –”

Vegeta was on Nappa within seconds, his gloved hands grasping the giant’s armor and pulling him nearly nose to nose. Nappa’s eyes widened, voice instantly gone as Vegeta glared daggers at him, his cold aura frighteningly menacing, even for how young he still was. While it may be true that Vegeta was a young man, aging nearly 26 cycles now, Nappa could still see how small he was. Still saw Vegeta as a kid, as his liege, as someone who needed protecting. Sometimes Nappa forgot just how dangerous his prince could be; how powerful.

“You ingrate,” Vegeta snarled quietly, gesturing to the branch below as it impacted with the earth. “Are you trying to alert the entire area?! You may as well put a bright beam in the sky and tell the planet of our whereabouts!” 

“S-sorry, my prince,” Nappa stammered, trying to slowly back out of Vegeta’s grip. The young man let him go and turned instead to Raditz. The boy was about 4 years older than their prince and stood nearly two feet taller and one foot wider. However, Nappa knew that Raditz didn’t stand a chance against their squad leader and noticed how the young saiyan’s tail whipped around his waist and tightened there, stiff as a board.

They stayed that way for a moment, Vegeta and Nappa floating above the place where the branch had once been, Vegeta glaring at Raditz while Nappa put a bit more space between him and his leader. Then, Vegeta released a sigh and went to stand lightly on the same branch as Raditz. “We have to get a move on. There’s no way we can finish this job in the time Frieza wants, but we may as well finish the job to the best of our ability. It might make our dock in pay less severe.”

Raditz stared at Vegeta a moment before shaking his head once, slowly. “Vegeta, are you sure we can finish this job? And I’m not really concerned about the credits man. I’m concerned about –”

“Don’t!” Vegeta shot, hands fisting at his sides. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence Raditz! You have no reason to worry about me, no reason to say a damn thing! I can handle myself, and you two should know how to handle your own selves by now too! If we have to receive punishment, so be it!”

The taller Saiyan put his hands up in front of him, a way to gesture he meant no harm, face passive. Vegeta didn’t miss the hint of nervousness in his eyes, or the worry there either. It made him angry, and only angrier still when Raditz opened his mouth again. “Look, I know you’re tough, man. I know you can take whatever anyone dishes out at you. But, risking failure for a mission that wasn’t meant to be ours? How can you want us to stay and complete this task?”

“Because! We have no _choice!_ ” Vegeta knew he needed to keep it down. The gruffness and depth of his voice carried decently well through forests like this. But, Vegeta hadn’t spoken much for the last several weeks, only giving one-word commands when needed, and now his frustrations were at their limit. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill, to destroy, to defeat whatever obstacle was in front of him. He wanted to win. But he knew he would always lose, would always be under Frieza’s heel, no matter what he did. After two decades living this life, he was finally feeling the last of his sanity fraying. “If we don’t get paid, we don’t eat. If we don’t eat, we die. Get that through your thick skull, Raditz, and stop worrying about me! _I am_ not _a child anymore!”_

Raditz stared at him, face twisting and crumpling with despair for a moment before he composed himself and nodded stiffly, hands settling on his hips before turning slightly to his side, face turned away. Vegeta felt a pinch in his chest, something like guilt, before he shoved it away. He couldn’t fail to notice the pass of hurt on Nappa's face either before they both fell into their icy, warrior selves, waiting for their leader's command. No, Vegeta didn’t miss those things. Didn’t miss the way his own lungs and throat tightened as they turned from him, turned from the boy they had raised and watched as he become a murderer.

No.

He couldn’t afford to care.

_Show no weakness._


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and "fluff" of sorts.
> 
>  
> 
> **Written to: Monster // Starset**
> 
>  
> 
> (All music rights go to the respective production studios and artists)

His ribs were broken. His arm too, he was pretty sure, and the cuts along sides had started to feel cold a few minutes ago. And _fuck_ it hurt. His entire body was a mass of pain, his saliva thick, hot crimson, skin tender from intense bruising along his chest and arms. His back was honestly the worst of it, he told himself. The gashes and burns there from Zarbon's claws and ki had left him too weak to stand. Vegeta could handle it though. He had to handle it. He had to get stronger.

Survive. Survive. _Survive._

“Oh shit… Vegeta!”

Distantly, he could hear Raditz, as if through a tunnel, and almost felt like he could see what was happening from outside his body. He watched as his comrade appeared in front of his now slumped body, his strong, large hands grasping Vegeta's shoulders as he tried to get a look at him. He was aware of trying to swat Raditz away, trying to mumble he was fine, trying to do anything to scare him into leaving him alone. Humiliated and trying not to cry in anger, Vegeta felt his body sag as the other Saiyan picked him up and nearly flew through the hallways, trying to get him to a regen tank.

Vegeta couldn’t stop the memories from pouring in. How he took most of the beatings, always bloody and broken, and how Raditz had always flinched, tail thrashing wildly, angrily behind him as he was forced to watch. Remembered the few times the older boy had tried to stand up for him and how quickly Zarbon was able to snap one of his bones and then knock him unconscious before he or Vegeta could scream. Remembered how Raditz had helped him time and time again after those beatings, helping him walk and move and heal. They hardly ever had access to the healing tanks, and when they did, they were forced to pay for their use. It was expensive for just one of them, and it was a blow to Vegeta's pride as he watched his comrades limp about while he got to heal fully and properly at their expense. They never took the tanks when they needed them; they always passed their credits to their squad leader.

More memories bubbled to the surface of his consciousness. The wrestling matches on the floor in their quarters, he and Raditz growling playfully as Nappa oversaw them. The feel of the boy’s strong arms lifting him up and bundling him into a Pod after he exhausted himself to near unconsciousness on purges. The few times Raditz had actually managed to squeeze a good laugh from him as children by making a fool of himself, trying to raise his shredded spirits when Vegeta had wondered why he had ever been born. Vegeta had even let Raditz see him cry once, when he had first got insanely drunk at seventeen and started a fight with some random soldiers in the hallway. Raditz had wrapped an arm around his shoulders to shield him from the eyes of others as he began to sob quietly, helping him into their rooms just down the hallway. It was probably the last time Vegeta had let Raditz so much as touch him.

He couldn’t help thinking that Raditz may not eat today because of him.

He couldn’t.

The scent of his fellow Saiyan was spiked with fear, with anxiety, and it made Vegeta wish the dark would swallow him forever.

 _Stupid fool._ He thought, hardly aware of how he was smearing his blood all over Raditz, how the man had to actually start flying so he wouldn’t slip from it. Was aware enough to know he was breaking the hearts of the only Saiyans left alive. _Just let me be. I just… need some sleep…_

**+.+.+**

He didn’t think he would ever forget the looks on their faces when he woke up.

The tinted green of the tank’s glass made them look sick, his eyes blearily cracking open. Raditz had a hand on the glass, his head turned and mouth moving as he talked to someone else in the room. Vegeta’s gaze shifted and he saw Nappa, who looked angrier than he had been in a long time. However, his eyes held grief through his outburst. And Raditz wouldn’t remove his hand from the glass, as if he were afraid Vegeta could somehow get away from him. As if he were afraid Vegeta could somehow be hurt even in the tank. He remembered Raditz turning his head, long puffy hair loose from its usual ponytail, and made eye contact with the prince. It was a brief moment, merely a second or two, but it was enough.

Raditz’s eyes had dark circles under them. Dried blood was smeared across his chest, neck, and face. He was slumped over, his clothes wrinkled, and his puffy hair ruffled; he looked exhausted. But even with all those things, it was the two tracks down his cheeks that hit Vegeta hardest.

He had been crying. And though he tried to mask the unfiltered pain by turning away abruptly, Vegeta knew then and there what he had to work harder at.

He had to push them out. Push them away. Harden his heart and harden theirs. Had to stop hurting them. Had to stop…

_Show no weakness._

Nappa raced forward suddenly, also placing a hand gently against the glass, peering in at him and saying something rapidly. Raditz stood and, with obvious embarrassment, moved out of view of the tank’s glass. There was a bit of relief on that front, at least. There was nothing Vegeta could do for him; for them. He wasn’t their savior. He was beginning to think he never would be. He would disappoint them, like he did himself, and it was almost more than he could take.

Taking as deep a breath he could from his still healing body, Vegeta closed his eyes and pretended not to hear the tone of arguing and fear, pretended to be asleep. Half of him knew it was all he could do not to burst from the glass and reassure them that he would be stronger, that he could win if given enough time. The other half urged him to give up on them, to focus on himself. To survive. To try and prove, at least to himself, that he was capable of being more than he already was. A thing he had started to doubt a long time ago.

With a pang of guilt, Vegeta concentrated on pushing his feelings aside and thinking nothing more of them. Tried to think of nothing at all. Emotions exposed weakness. He would not be weak.

He had to survive.

_Survive. Can’t afford a family._

_They saved your life._

_Doesn’t matter._

_Show no weakness._

**+.+.+**

“I’m sending you to get your brother.”

Raditz popped his head up from his pillow in surprise, twisting to look at his leader. “Really?”

“Yes.” Vegeta continued working on buffing out his armor. He hated the stiff material and the colors; a dull, off-white shade with drab, tan shoulder pads. It didn’t compare to the pristine white and gold he had grown up knowing.

He heard the other Saiyan stand up and begin to pace about the room, talking to himself. “Hell, I don’t even know if the kid is still alive. I mean, he was so weak, would it even be worth it to get him? I don’t think it would do us any good. I would also have to search several planets since I don’t know exactly where he was sent.”

Vegeta set his armor down on his lap a moment and waved a hand to catch the attention of his pacing comrade. “This is an order, not a friendly request. If there are any other Saiyans, we should gather them together. With enough of us, we could overpower the Ginyu Force and Frieza's elites. Then, eventually, Frieza himself. It is worth the risk.”

Raditz looked doubtful, his body tense as he crossed his arms and tilted his head to the ceiling. He was quiet a while, and Vegeta knew he was picking his next words carefully. Finally, he sighed. “Nappa isn’t gonna like this.”

Vegeta snorted. “Nappa doesn’t have a say. It’s a direct order from your squad leader and your prince.”

“Well, what’s my cover story then? Obviously, I can’t just leave and wander off to a remote galaxy.”

“Obviously,” Vegeta repeated, wheels already turning in his head. “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now, thinking of all the possibilities, and I’ve come up with something as close to foolproof as I can.” He waited for Raditz to say something but when he saw only curiosity and attentiveness, he continued. “We say we’re sending you to recruit more soldiers for the Frieza Force, and to conquer a few worthy planets along the way. From what I’ve researched, a few within that galaxy will be worth something, and we can barter them off for trade to make Frieza more money.”

“I dunno,” Raditz said. “We’ve never done something like that before for him. I think at least Zarbon would suspect us, if not his entire elite force.”

Vegeta grit his teeth, hands clenching around the armor in his lap as he continued. “Well, we can’t all go. That would be worse; they would think we were deserters and kill us as soon as they could.”

A stretch of silence followed and, when Vegeta was going to ask why the big oaf wasn’t saying anything, he caught the Saiyan’s eye. _Mischief._ It was written all over his stupid face when he opened his mouth and said, “Well… what if I was a deserter?”

The two stared at one another for several long seconds before the barest hint of a grin tugged at Vegeta’s mouth. “You clever asshole.”

He smiled and tossed his hair over his shoulder, batting his eyes innocently. “I have my moments, dear prince. Now, when do I leave?”

Vegeta stood and looked around the white and chrome room. This place had been his only living space, his personal prison, for far too many years. He wanted out; he wanted freedom. With one look at Raditz’ dopey, excited face, he had several thoughts pass through his head.

 _If something happens to him, it’s his own fault for going._

_You’re commanding him to._

_Doesn’t matter. He’s an idiot._

_He’ll be fine… he has to be fine, or it will be your fault for sending him._

_No. Not your fault. You are alone and always will be._

Taking a final glance around the room, and trying to clear his head, he made his way towards the door. “We’ll discuss that later. For now, let’s spar. It’s been a while.”

Raditz followed after, saying nothing as he radiated excitement. He would get to see his brother again, something Vegeta was sure he would never get to do with Tarble. Still, the prospect of another Saiyan, alive, was enough to give him hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far my friends!  
> I hope you're enjoying this so far. I really wanted to dive into the type of relationship Vegeta and Raditz must have had. I don't see those three Saiyans, last of their kind (that they know), not bonding in one way or another. Especially Raditz and Vegeta. I really think they were like brothers to one another.  
> (And maybe something else, lol! Who knows, but it's kind of a nice idea to think that they were there for one another all the time. Brothers, best friends, maybe first crushes? Lol just a thought!)  
> Also I super HC Vegeta as Bisexual/Biromantic so... do with that what you will.  
> I hope you continue to enjoy this story! Thank you for reading <3  
> (Art is coming soon!)


	3. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I almost titled this "Denial". Also I like to write angst; I'm sorry!  
> It will get a little lighter soon, (just a little) I promise.'
> 
> **Written to: _What's Happening to Me // Two Steps From Hell_**

When he had gotten word of Raditz' death, it felt like a blow to the gut, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe a single filthy word coming from the two-faced alien before him. It took even more control not to show the emotion that was threatening to put him in self-destruct mode. Zarbon was towering over him and Nappa, braiding his stupid green hair and sneering down at them from the pretentious high seat in his “office”. It looked like a throne and Vegeta had wondered more than once if Frieza knew about it. Probably not. Regardless, it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

“Didn’t you hear me, little monkey prince? Your comrade is dead.”

“I know,” Vegeta seethed, barely keeping his cool. His body was starting to shiver with the effort it was taking to put his mask back on. What he was feeling now would only get him killed. Would only make him weak. “He was a fool, and a weak one at that.”

Nappa choked on a sob beside him and Vegeta suddenly felt like killing him too. If he could just go the rest of his life alone, he wouldn’t have to worry about the liability of his teammates anymore. Yet, somewhere beneath the layers of walls that Vegeta kept building, he understood the grief. Had almost felt it just moments before when he first heard the news. But it wasn’t worth dwelling on. They still had to get paid and they were now down a man.

“Indeed,” Zarbon droned. He examined his nails before reaching for a glass of some kind of hard liquor. It nearly glowed, the vibrant pink of it standing out against his lightly, green-tinted skin and amber eyes. He may have been able to sway many people into his ranks with charm and grace, but Vegeta knew bullshit when he saw it. Zarbon knew that Vegeta knew as well. “I have a gift for you, to offer my condolences. A vacation, if you will, back to Solas 4; to Earth.”

Vegeta couldn’t help his curiosity. “Why there?”

Zarbon froze, eyes still gazing into his drink before he slowly found Vegeta’s questioning look and holding it. His eyes were cold as stone. “Are you questioning me, Vegeta?” His tail bristled around his waist, tightening its hold so much that he thought he might puke. He knew what was coming. Knew that whether he answered or not, he was going to be beat into the ground until he could hardly stand. Braved himself for having been so flippant, but knowing his resolve for living smart was beyond frayed. Had been for years. So, he waited for the punishment to come.

Except it didn’t.

Instead, Zarbon sighed and flicked a hand at them, shooing them away as if they were pesky little bugs, nothing more. “You leave at 0500 tomorrow and will be gone for six days. Do what you will with that time and then come back ready to make some actual use of yourself.”

They left the room in silence and it wasn’t until they were back in their own quarters that Vegeta felt like he could breathe again. Nappa began mumbling to himself, pacing around the room in a way that made Vegeta want to punch him, to knock him out cold. He could feel something simmering below the surface of his skin, mingling with his ki, ready to rip him to shreds. It felt familiar, something boiling into a flame he couldn’t control, a fury fueled by… grief? Anger? He wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“Vegeta we… we have to do something. Raditz _can’t_ be dead. He's… probably just hiding his energy or… wounded or –” “Nappa, shut _up!”_ His ki suddenly pushed out from him in a wave of compressed air that nearly knocked the other Saiyan over, tipping some of the furniture on their sides. He could see that his skin was giving off a glow as he struggled to rein in the strong emotion rampaging through his blood stream. “We have no _choice._ We're going, and we're gonna find Raditz, and I’m gonna beat you _both_ into the ground for being so fucking _stupid_.”

Nappa's eyes were wide, had even taken a couple steps back under the furious gaze of his prince. His large hands came up in front of his body, a way to try and break through to Vegeta, to tell him he wasn’t an enemy. “Hey, little prince, calm down!”

“No! Shut up! _Shut up!_ ”

Nappa saw his prince curling into himself, watched as his eyes shut tight and his fists clenched so tightly that he thought the white gloves might tear at the seams. His ki was bursting out of him in waves, a near white glow pulsing across the room and sweeping everything on the floor up against the walls. In fact, as much as Nappa was afraid, he was also in awe. Something about this power was different. Bigger and brighter and stronger.

Then, just as quickly as the power overcame him, it dissipated with a pop and a flash. Vegeta swayed, tilted, and fell unconscious to the floor. Nappa was still frozen in place, not sure what to do as he wondered if he could move at all. Something was changing in Vegeta, had been for a while now. He was reclusive, easily angered, and far too prideful for his own good. But he was growing stronger, a thread of new power always winding around his energy with each battle, each beating, each mission.

Nappa feared, not for the first time, if that narrow view of power would be the death of the last prince of their people.

**+.+.+**

Earth was a strange place.

There were warriors here – if you could even call them that – trying to defend this blue-water spitball of a planet. It was almost laughably easy how the first few went down. Vegeta hardly lifted a finger, letting Nappa do all the work. While the earthlings were squealing about “justice” and “defending their planet”, Vegeta was distracted. He was scanning Earth, scanning for Raditz, but coming up empty-handed. It was like a hole in his gut, a missing piece, something that had always been there and was now making its absence painfully obvious.

Vegeta sent his little green minions after the fighters before him, hardly seeing what was going on as he continued to sweep the land for powers with his scouter. Nothing. No high power-levels, no fire, no indication that there was ever a threat on this planet.

No Raditz.

He set his jaw, teeth grinding and brow furrowing as the first few defenders fell around him and Nappa. In fact, he was starting to fly past “anxious” to “angry” when, suddenly, his scouter started beeping rapidly. Vegeta felt his heart surge a moment, hoping for the sight of his comrade as the scouter sounded. The alert grew faster and faster until the source landed before them. It was a Saiyan alright, but not the one Vegeta knew. He was tall, though not as tall as Raditz or Nappa, and wore a blindingly orange suit. His dark hair defied gravity as much as Vegeta’s, and the deep brown of his eyes held a competitive light to them.

He was here to fight.

_Show no mercy. Show no weakness._

_There’s another Saiyan… it must be... Kakarot really is alive._

**Raditz is dead.**

Vegeta was in shock. He could feel his mind detaching, his consciousness floating somewhere just outside his body. By the time Nappa was beaten and bleeding at his feet, Vegeta felt himself in a near black-out state. It happened sometimes… the dissociating. He could see what he was doing, but it never felt like him; it was always like someone else lived inside his body. He remembered though. Remembered how the sound of Nappa pleading for help felt like a distant voice echoing off canyon walls. Vegeta watched himself reach down as if to help Nappa to his feet – _wanted_ to help him, even if he was an embarrassing disgrace – only to feel his grasp on reality slip through his fingers. He lost control as he tossed Nappa high into the air and, with a ferocious yell, incinerated his guardian in one hot streak of ki.

_Gone._

There, the word in the front of his mind. The relief, the finality that he no longer had to care for anyone but himself. The rage built in him, pulling red over his vision, brighter and brighter until he was only a vessel of fury. He didn’t need anyone. He _never_ needed anyone.

Then, Vegeta felt cold, his body and mind icing over. He was numb. And as his dissociative state spiraled further from his control, he wished more than ever that he could close his eyes and feel nothing at all.

**+.+.+**

He was battered and broken, his breath coming in short as he tried to make it back to his pod. Gods, why was he always ending up this way? Under someone’s heel, bleeding and bruised and feeling like death. Hell, death would be kinder. Yet he was always left to live. He didn’t think he would ever know why anyone would let him live when they had won; when they had his life along the edge of a blade. The dumb looking, but stupidly strong Saiyan was talking to his midget friend, asking for Vegeta’s life to be spared. Didn’t… couldn’t know why.

Gods, he just wanted to rest.

_No rest for the wicked, right?_

_Tired._

**Weak.**

He managed to get back into his pod, exhausted. Deep down he felt something invigorating from fighting someone of his kind, his race, that was actually strong. It was a washed out feeling though. His self-hatred in that moment was far stronger. The heat of it burned through his entire body, curling around his heart and holding fast. The numbness he used as a shield against everything in his life was finally cracking apart. There was a tightness in his throat, and he found it hard to swallow. Giving the command for the pod to take him to a nearby base for healing, he watched as the planet beneath him shrunk away.

Vegeta was ashamed. Here he was, thirty cycles through life and still living under the man he hated the most. And now, he had been bested by a single stranger. A low-class Saiyan. The brother of Raditz.

_Fucking Raditz._

That was all it took. The thought of Raditz, followed by the guilt over Nappa, pushed Vegeta’s mask of stone away. His eyes burned and, before he could really understand why he was having the reaction he was, the tears were already streaking down his face. Warm droplets of saltwater, landing on his shredded suit, smudging his bloodied hands and chest as he tried to wipe them away. The emotion was shaking him to his very core.

_The fucking idiot wasn’t supposed to die. Raditz was just supposed to bring his brother or leave him there, not die. He was supposed to come back, supposed to help with future missions, supposed to_ live.

He punched the side of the pod, denting it even in his weakened state. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t focus.

_Focus. Survive._

_Shut up. Just… shut up._

The prince was nearly heaving now with choked sobs, his cracked and severely bruised ribs doing nothing to distract him from the pain that lanced through his heart. He began to think of Nappa, how he had just killed him without a thought in his blind rage. How he had almost been relieved when the man had died, and how the guilt of it felt like it was happening to another person. How his own mind had tried to tell him to stop, as if another person were in his head, screaming through a thick door. Vegeta had cut down his own caretaker, his guardian, all because of the red veil that had taken him in the heat of the moment. The intensity of his need to kill had fooled him into thinking everything and everyone around him was an enemy and he had _reveled_ in it. But he knew it hadn’t really been him. Wished it hadn’t been him. 

_Nappa… you fucking failure. You made me do it. You_ made _me, didn’t you? You knew I would kill you someday, knew I would lose control over and over… why didn’t you fucking run?_

Now both of his comrades were dead. He was alone.

The hyper-sleep gas began to take him into unconsciousness, sparing him any more time to dwell over showing such weakness, over feeling such loss. Still, it didn’t stop the thought that had haunted him his entire life.

_Maybe I’ve always been alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for tormenting you all. It's just what I do.  
> All aboard the "feels" train!


	4. Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namek happens. We all know how tragic this can be.  
> But, we also all know that Vegeta's life changes drastically once he's back on Earth. So better days are coming...  
> ((mostly))
> 
>  
> 
> **Written to: _Fight the Future // The Anix_**
> 
>  
> 
> (Song rights go to their respective producers and artists)

Namek wasn’t much better than Earth, if he was honest with himself.

At least the planet wasn’t as crowded, but it didn’t make the few living beings he did encounter any less annoying. And now, as he was faced with the midget and the kid, he wanted nothing more than to obliterate them both. But they knew something he didn’t, and he needed them to help him locate the dragon balls. Vegeta needed his wish, or they would all die.

“Listen peons, just hand over the dragon ball and tell me where the others are!” Vegeta demanded, losing his patience.

The short man stepped forward, trying to shield the boy behind him. He was sweating bullets. Good. He hadn’t forgotten Vegeta’s strength then. “We can’t do that! We don’t trust you!”

“You dense fools!” Vegeta shouted, stepping forward with measured steps. “Unless you help me get my wish of immortality, we are all going to die on this miserable planet! It’s either me or Frieza, and trust me, you want it to be me!”

The boy behind the bald man moved forward to place a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Krillin, let’s hear him out.”

“Are you _nuts_ Gohan?! Don’t you remember what he did to your dad? To me? To _Yamcha?!_ ”

“I know,” the kid stated, calmly. “I haven’t forgotten. But right now, we may need all the strength we can get. We’ve felt Frieza’s power level and not a single one of us is currently equipped to handle someone like him.”

Vegeta snorted, trying to file their names into his memory, at least temporarily. He might need them later. “I’m glad you see it my way, brat. Now hand over the dragon ball.”

Gohan sneered up at him. “I may be agreeing to let you have a wish, but I never said we were going to hand you what we rightfully found.”

Vegeta felt his blood pressure rise. “ _What?_ ”

“You heard me.” Gohan looked back towards the mouth of a nearby cave. “Now, let’s discuss terms. If anyone knows how to do that, it’s Bulma.”

“Who the hell is that?”

Krillin piped up, still nervous but not as much as he was a minute ago. “A friend of ours. She’s really smart. She’ll know what to do with you.”

“And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?!” Vegeta felt his hackles rise, the ghost of where his tail had been beginning to prickle. If it were still there, it would definitely be thrashing and bristling. He did his best to ignore the sensation.

Gohan began to walk off, ignoring the threat in Vegeta’s tone and waving for them to follow. “Hurry up, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Krillin trotted after the kid, still carrying the dragon ball, and Vegeta had to suck in a few deep breaths. _Calm down. There’s still time… there’s still time._

Kicking a nearby stone, he watched as it sailed a couple hundred yards and disappear over the dip of the hill. Then he strode toward the cave entrance, hoping he could either slaughter the lot of them and take what he wanted, or work with them in his favor. Afterall, killing them too early when they could be used as bait might be too hasty of him.

He could almost hear Raditz laughing at him. _“Vegeta, look at you! Thinking with your head instead of your temper for once!_ ”

Shaking the thought from his head, he reached the cave entrance to find the two small humans talking to a woman. She was standing in shadow, but even in the dark of the cave he could see that her hair was a unique shade of blue. It made her look alien amongst the other two humans, especially when she was standing over them like now. Her hands were perched on her hips and her lips were drawn back in a snarl. They both seemed to cower under her a bit, and not just because she was taller. The woman practically radiated a threatening aura. It made his hands tighten across his arms.

Then, her fiery gaze snapped up to his and he felt his entire body stiffen. “And just who the hell do you think _you_ are?! Coming over here and demanding something that isn’t yours sounds just as evil as the man you’re claiming you want to stop!”

It took more effort than he thought not to take a step backwards. He steadied himself and leveled his gaze with hers; or at least, what he could see of hers. “If you don’t let me have my wish, we’ll all die woman! That’s what I was trying to tell your pathetic friends!”

She scoffed, turning and strutting back into the darker parts of the cave. “I have nothing to say to you. You can’t have the dragon ball and that’s final.”

The girl was hardly visible now, heading further into the cave until her footsteps stopped and crunched. She had turned to face them again, he could tell. “Listen, you may be strong, but your heart isn’t in the right place. So, instead, I’m sending Gohan and Krillin with you to find the dragon balls; they’ll keep you in line.”

Both her friends cried out at once, but she was gone, stepping around a slight corner and out of sight. Not too soon after, a soft glow emanated from where she had been and Vegeta realized there was a house of some kind back there.

_Humans. So fucking strange._

“Well,” Krillin sighed, heaving one of the dragon balls into the cave. “Let’s go, I guess. Bulma’s word is law around here.”

Vegeta was tempted to lunge after it but saw the glare the young child was giving him and decided against it. He had seen the whelp’s strength and where it could potentially go. He couldn’t risk using up all his energy to fight a child. So, instead, he followed the two idiots out of the cave and prayed they would be successful.

**+.+.+**

It seemed that his destiny was always going to be out of reach. That he was always going to be scrabbling for a handhold and trying to hang on instead of moving forward. Always just clinging to life.

_Survive, survive, survive._

_Don’t give up. Don’t you ever give up._

_Tired. So tired._

He was dying. He could feel it as his heart constricted, blood pouring from his chest as Frieza laughed down at him. Was always looking down at him. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve pissed Vegeta off, would’ve made him want to rip his pompous head from his tiny shoulders. But this time… it was different. He had lost, completely. His bones were cracked and broken and his head spun as black shadows began to dance in the corners of his vision.

_**Weak.** _

Kakarot was there. Vegeta couldn’t remember how, or why, but the Saiyan was suddenly standing next to him, looking at him with horror and dismay, unable to stop the blood flow from the wound in Vegeta’s chest. He could only watch this time as the prince bled out. The Saiyan prince felt his mouth open, heard himself talking to the man. He had no idea what he was saying, no clue why he could suddenly feel a fresh warmth springing from his eyes and rolling down over the bridge of his nose as he turned his head to the side. Vegeta knew he wasn’t going to make it, not this time. Now he just wanted someone to _know_ the things he had to endure. He wanted to finally let go of all the anger and pain and grief he had been harboring the last twenty-five years living with the bastard. Honestly, Vegeta didn’t really care who heard him either. He just wanted someone to know, to understand that, even with all he had done, he didn’t mean to let it consume him. He didn’t mean to let a slimy, evil snake like Frieza groom him to be a ruthless, perfect killing machine; a slave. He wanted someone to get the fact that he did it all to survive, to make it to the next day, to be stronger and stronger and _stronger_.

_Kill Frieza. That was your plan. You let the Saiyan race down._

The Earth Saiyan knelt down beside him, listening. His dark eyes were filled with confusion as the words poured from Vegeta’s mouth. Gradually, the look went from confusion to a sort of sorrow that Vegeta didn’t understand. Did the man pity him? He probably did, but what did he have to lose now? He had already lost. He had lost the war and every battle along the way. Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans, had failed.

As the curtain of darkness began to wrap itself snugly around him, Vegeta reached out weakly, the motion taking every effort, and he felt himself point in Frieza’s direction. He had to say it, had to say what he had been wanting to say his entire life without repercussions.

“Kill that piece of shit… make him… pay.”

He fell into the darkness and, for the first time ever, Vegeta felt the bliss of nothing.

**+.+.+**

Earth was a strange place.

The grass wasn’t sharp or dry or laced with toxins like other planets he had visited. In fact, it was quite soft, and a nice shade of green. The leaves on the trees mirrored the colors of the grass, heightening the peaceful quiet of the place. But it was hard for him to put his guard down, hard for him to really grasp where he was or why he was there. The last thing he remembered was digging himself out of a grave and flying for the summoned Dragon, gunning for his wish. And then, in a flash, he was plunked onto Earth’s surface, completely dazed and surrounded by those who had survived.

No. Been wished back.

The Namekians were in a group off to the side, chatting amiably. It made Vegeta scowl. He didn’t know what they were so happy about, or why they weren’t showing more concern for the fact that they were now on an alien planet without any idea how their environment could affect them. He just didn’t get it. _Couldn’t_ get it.

_They’ll never survive like you have._

With a huff of annoyance, Vegeta leaned back against the tree, arms folding across his chest out of habit. He was far from the group, watching them all with caution and distaste. The sky was clear, but the taste of metal in the back of his throat told him it would rain later. Had to start taking slow, deliberate breaths to keep his cool as he remembered Namek and the electric smell of a storm coming and realizing it was Frieza and the Ginyu Force. Had to concentrate on not showing his distress as he kept feeling the ghost of Frieza’s attack going through his chest again and again.

_Survive. Kill them all. Survive._

_**Kill them all and leave.** _

Vegeta closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, trying to drown out any and all noise. Sometimes he felt split in two. His rational side and war side. Usually he was in control, usually he was rational and collected. But other times, he would lose all sense of himself. Like many times throughout his childhood. Like with Nappa. That other side of him, the one that thirsted for blood, was trying to take over again. He needed to ground himself to something.

_Focus. Breathe. Numb… go numb… you feel nothing. You are a warrior… you feel… nothing._

“Hey, homeboy!”

His eyes flew open, flustered and surprised that someone had managed to get even within a few feet of him without his notice. The girl… it was that girl from Namek. Her straight, blue hair still pushed back with the ridiculously pink headband as she leaned towards him, hands on her hips. She was… smiling at him. He wanted to ask her why, but suddenly he wasn’t sure how to use his mouth, too shocked by the fact that someone was addressing him at all, much less with a smile. He tried for a response, but all he could quietly stutter out was, “H… homeboy?”

?“You need somewhere to sleep too, don’t you?” She asked, not hearing him at all, blue eyes sparkling as she flashed another smile. “You can come back to my place if you want. We have plenty of extra bedrooms.”

His brain was short-circuiting. How was he supposed to respond? Then, with a snap, his mouth was moving. “I tried to kill your friends. On multiple occasions. Why are you offering me a place to stay?”

Her face flushed for a moment, standing up straight as one hand lifted from her hip and came up to her face. Her long, dainty fingers tapped at her lips in thought and Vegeta found himself realizing that her ki was incredibly low. Almost lower than the weakest race he had ever come across to purge. Found himself thinking that he didn’t know how she survived in the intense situations on Namek when she had nearly no muscle to her. At least, it seemed she didn’t, if the fitted black leggings and yellow dress were anything to go by. He found himself feeling strangely embarrassed as she regarded him again, her blue eyes taking him in and it reminded him too much of when people had looked down on him on Frieza’s base. Felt his anger mixing with his embarrassment like a dangerous, strong cocktail . He might go off. Maybe he should just leave.

_And go where?_

_Anywhere I want._

_**You’re stuck on this planet without a ship.** _

“Hey… are you ok?” The woman asked, having tried to take a step closer to him.

Vegeta snarled at her, lip curling as he instinctively straightened himself. “Leave me alone. I’ll do as I please.”

She put her hands up in front of her, a gesture of surrender. A gesture that Raditz had always used when Vegeta’s temper started to flare. The ghost of Frieza’s attack pierced him again, feeling nearly like a push to the chest as he leaned back into the tree to steady himself. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her response. Only, she didn’t look away, her own blue eyes narrowing as a small frown pulled her lips down. “Alright, no need to be rude. I’m just offering you a place to sleep since you don’t know anyone here. But, suit yourself. Just don’t blow up the planet.”

“I should,” he snapped, knowing the threat was half-empty even as he said it. “I still might. Which brings me back to what I was saying before; I don’t know why you offered me a place to stay, much less why you’re even talking to me.”

The woman rolled her eyes, both hands planting on her hips again as she began to turn away. “Because, dumb-dumb, I just thought it would be nice to offer. That, and you helped fight to keep everyone alive to the best of your ability there at the end. You even saved Gohan in a moment you didn't need to; he told me. So, don’t act so tough! I know there’s some good in you.”

“Tch. Believe what you want, earth woman, but you’re wrong.” Vegeta frowned at her, glared even, completely unsure of how he should be responding.

The girl tossed her short blue-green hair over her shoulder as she walked back to her group, her next words floating to him from over her shoulder. “Well, if you change your mind, we’re leaving for my place in the next few minutes. There will be lots of food.”

His stomach betrayed his temptation, grumbling with hunger at the mere mention of food. Vegeta knew she hadn’t heard it, but it didn’t make him any less frustrated.

_Damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post one more chapter tonight to get you guys up to the good stuff! heheheh. This is, ultimately, a Vegebul fic. But I just like to dig into Vegeta's head. (As do we all)  
> I hope you like this!


	5. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit longer of a chapter!  
> Vegeta and Bulma start to understand one another. Just a little.
> 
> **Written to: Don't Want to Change Your Mind // FM-84**  
>  (Song rights go to their respective producers and artists)
> 
> Artwork posted at the bottom was made by the lovely [HannaBellLecter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaBellLecter) :D Thanks so much lovely, you did an incredible job!

The Gravity Chamber was on the verge of breaking down again.

He had been on Earth for nearly six months, spending his spare time training to defeat Kakarot when he came back. Had even gone back into space to look for him, but no luck. He had a feeling the dense Saiyan wasn’t dead, knew it with such certainty that it became his sole purpose to train at all. His next goal was to fight that idiot, win, and then blow up this miserable rock. He wanted the life he had been denied, the life to take what he pleased and rule the universe. He wanted Frieza’s throne in ruins. He wanted his own throne. He wanted his home.

Vegeta cursed loudly as another bot rushed him while he was in his thoughts, energy glowing brightly as he tried to block it. The gravity weighed him down, pushed him to his knees, made his reaction time slower. It took almost everything he had to knock the blow away. Then, with a muffled, verbal command, he tried to shut the thing down. Only, it didn’t work.

_Oh shit._

_No. No, no, no._

He tried again, voice escalating, but not before another bot rushed him. He tried to dodge, but the blow caught him along the side of his head, dazing him as he felt warm blood begin to stream down across his eyes. Half-blind and feeling desperate, he tried to stand, the bots whizzing around him as if the gravity had no effect. They began to fire faster, as if he could keep up. His body was already on the brink of collapse, already feeling too worn to do much of anything.

When the circular, metal eyes began to zero in on him, pushing him into a corner, Vegeta began to feel true panic. He was no longer in the red-lit gravity room, no longer training. Memories flashed through him, a cold, desolate white room with too bright lights, the slick floors, the way eyes were always on him, voices mocking him as he fought for his life. The person before him was always someone from the top, usually Zarbon, Dodoria, or Ginyu. On worse days, Frieza himself. Right now, Vegeta’s memory was painting something grotesque, a mix of all his tormentors towering over him, sharp teeth flashing as it grinned and reached for him. Touched his chest. Plunged for his heart.

With a scream that felt like it was pulling from his very soul, Vegeta released all the energy he had left. He felt his ki beating against the barrier he had started feeling deep in his gut, like a door locked tight and he was trying to bust it down. He wanted to reach it… wanted to own what was behind it. Wanted to own his destiny. And, just before the choke hold of panic and exhaustion and fear overtook him, he felt the barrier bend.

_Break. Break yourself again and again until you are undefeatable. Survive. No time for anything else. Just survive._

**+.+.+**

When he woke, the first thing that registered in his head was that the ground was softer than usual. There was a sweet smell, almost like fruit or flowers, almost like the gardens he vaguely remembered from his childhood. From home.

Prying open his eyes took more effort than it had in ages, and he figured he must’ve been drugged. The thought alone made the claws of fear threaten to clamp down over his lungs, to remind him of the gases he sometimes was forced to fight through when purging certain planets as the inhabitants fought back. Was reminded of the drunken, sluggish movements that nearly cost him his life on more than one of those missions.

Once he was able to get his bearings, he felt himself relax just slightly. He wasn’t on Frieza’s planet, or on his base. He was on Earth, and apparently, had made it back to his bed by some miracle.

_How… how did I get here?_

Turning his head, the answer was made clear. It was the earth woman, Bulma, he thought her name was. She was asleep at a small desk ear his bed, arms pillowing her head as she snoozed. Her blue hair was fuller and curlier now, pushed back away from her eyes with a few strange metal pins, her red dress fitting around her curves. She was pretty, he had to admit that, but looked away roughly a minute later. He didn’t get it… couldn’t understand why she even… _bothered_ with him. Vegeta knew she had been helping him, could just tell by the sort of messy but careful way his wounds were treated. But, it didn’t help it make _sense_.

_Train. Nothing else matters. Train and be strong enough to beat Kakarot. Be strong enough to avenge your people. Be strong enough to realize your destiny. Train. Survive. Train._

The woman moaned slightly, and Vegeta felt himself stiffen before noticing that she was waking up. For some reason he felt self-conscious at the thought of her catching him awake, so he quickly shut his eyes and tried to even his breathing. He listened as she stirred beside him, hearing her joints creak and pop as she stretched. He was curious about how long she had been sleeping there, sitting there, waiting for him to wake up. By the sounds her body was making, he guessed several hours. It really did confuse him.

Pretending to be asleep became harder as he felt her weight shift the bed slightly, her cool hands checking over his bandages before he heard her sigh and shift away, still on the edge of the bed. “You foolish man,” she whispered, voice stern but also filled with concern. He wondered what her face must look like now, or if she was even looking at him. He didn’t know why he wondered, but he did. “You’re going to get yourself killed like this.”

Vegeta found himself wanting to know what else she thought. Found himself offended at her saying he would get himself killed, but also knowing deep down that she had some truth in her words. But, the drugs were starting to take effect again, his consciousness drifting as she just sat there, probably looking at him in pity. He hoped she wasn’t. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

All he wanted was someone to understand.

Her cool hand touched his cheek as sleep took him once more, before the slim, soft fingers slipped away and the weight of her presence left the room.

**+.+.+**

It had been a little over a year. Even with all his training, even with all his focus and determination, he felt like a failure. He felt weak. It made him sick to his damn stomach, parading around the Capsule Corps grounds like he deserved respect and obedience when he knew just how lost he was.

For the first time ever, Vegeta wanted to forget about his destiny, about his birthright.

He wanted to forget about beating Kakarot, about avenging his people, about surviving and not really _living_. He was so sick of the struggle, of the pain, of the complete loss of everything that made him who he was today. He wanted freedom from this life, wanted some kind of release. He was numb. He wanted to forget _everything_.

She felt the same way. Had admitted it too. The Earth woman. Bulma.

She had been drinking that night, and he had found her perched precariously on her bedroom balcony, tears streaming down her face. He had moved without thinking, flying up to her and grasping her around the waist just as her feet were beginning to slip. She had screamed for only a moment, only long enough to realize she wasn’t falling but that Vegeta was setting her back on the balcony floor, just outside her glass doors. He wondered vaguely if he had grabbed her too tightly when her hands brushed along where his had been.

“What are you thinking?” Vegeta snarled, a strange anger blooming in his chest. “You could’ve killed yourself.”

She seemed confused, maybe even terrified, and Vegeta realized she must not have really been aware of what she was doing. Her blue eyes had dilated pupils, her stance awkward, and he started to get that she wasn’t her normal self at the moment. However, after a mere second, her face twisted in anger. “Maybe that was the fucking point.”

Her answer surprised him, his feet touching down just inside the balcony and leaning against the railing. His arms fell slightly to his sides. “You don’t really mean that.”

“I do!”

“No, you don’t, I can tell. It’s written in the way you looked just now when I caught you.” He eyed her, finally noticing the smell of alcohol before seeing the strewn about cans and bottles. She looked like she was going to protest again when Vegeta cut her off. “Why have you drank this much? That can’t be good for you.”

“Since when are you concerned about what’s good for me?!” She snapped, her small frame slumping against the glass door leading to her room, deep blue eyes blazing. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I know you won’t be honest anyway. Just like all men. Typical _fuckin'_ lying, no matter their race! Shit, if I could just punch something or just die, I –”

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing forward, hands cracking the glass of the door as he leaned over her. He was angry, so angry, that someone like her would even say that. Bulma shrank down a bit, surprised and maybe even afraid of his actions. But he couldn’t stop himself, not now that the words were piling in his throat and forcing his mouth to open.

“Be careful what you say, woman. Never, not once have I lied to you. I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but let me get one thing straight with you. You have _everything_. A home, a family, friends to call over and be with, a life that isn’t filled with misery. You are privileged and spoiled. I don’t know why you, of all people, would ever want to die. I’ve wanted to die more times than I can count, but I’m still standing here because I am stronger than that! So don’t patronize me and my pain with that of whatever is going on with you! I have suffered more than you ever will, so don’t say you wish to die when I’m still standing here!”

She blanched then tried for a slap. He caught her wrist easily, careful not to grip too hard even in his anger. The blue of her eyes were suddenly rivers, oceans, and her rage turned on its head. She began to cry profusely. It made him uncomfortable enough to let go of her arm, nearly staunching his anger, but the moment he did, she started to throw punches into his chest. He barely felt them, unsure if it was his strength or her drunkenness that made her shots so weak. Or maybe, she just wasn’t very strong. Based on her consistent ki reading whenever he scanned her around the house, he placed his bet on the latter.

“You… you idiot!” She blubbered, throwing punch after punch. He took a step back, but she merely followed, her voice broken and slurred. “No one… no one is ever around! Haven’t you noticed? Fuckin’, I’m only important when someone is getting somethin' from me! I… I only matter if I can dress pretty, show off a bit, and cling to the arm of the _asshole_ who cheated on me just ta keep up appearances! You don’t know me either, so don’t act like ya care or… or… like if I died it… if anyone would even… oh shit… _shit!_ I just want to stop _everything_.”

She couldn’t say anything more, her tears overtaking her as she dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands. She was a mess. He knew he should leave. None of this was his business. He knew that the fact her chosen partner had been unfaithful to her shouldn’t bother him. She was right; he hadn’t seen anyone around her home in months, maybe even a year. She may not know much about him, but he realized he didn’t know a whole lot about her either.

Vegeta felt he should leave.

But he wanted, for some reason, to stay. His feet were anchored as he stared down at her. She had been fighting more frequently with the idiot with the long hair. What was his name… Yamcha, maybe? Didn’t matter. From what the woman was telling him, that man had hurt her. The thought of someone physically harming her made him suddenly ill, and he had to suck in a quiet breath. Then, realized, she hadn't said anything about physical pain, but more of an indirect action to her. Mental then. Emotional, definitely. It made him angry and sick all the same.

Then, he was speaking again, as if from another body. “He hurt you?”

She whimpered, wiping at her eyes profusely as she finally lifted her head to him. Her surprise at him still standing there was apparent. “W… what?”

“Your… mate? Partner? Yamcha, or whatever. Did he hurt you?”

“I… I mean, yes?” Her wet eyes were still filled with confusion. Vegeta didn’t like what her sad eyes were starting to do to his gut.

“Don’t let him come over anymore. If you haven’t left him, then do. Don’t keep ties with people that hurt you, if you can help it.”

“Wait –”

“But, if he hurt you physically, I can kill him for you.”

She gasped and then, with a small snort, laughed. The sound faded into something small and sad before she glanced up at him again. “No. Don’t kill ‘em. He never hurt me physically, only emotionally. I’m jus’… jus’ so tired of being only a means to an end.” She sighed, her tears finally subsiding, before staring down into her hands resting in her lap. “Why do you care, anyway? I thought I was the same to you; a tool.”

“Tch,” He frowned, trying not to let on that he did, indeed, care for some reason. “Don’t get me wrong. I just would hate for the only person capable of building decent bots for me to fight to lose focus. Having you moping about thinking of some loser would only endanger us all.”

She laughed again, the sound lighter this time but not lacking the bitter edge from before. She began to pick herself up off the floor. Vegeta had to try not to help her to her feet. The urge to pick her up was so strangely automatic, he even took a step to the side to be away from her. She brushed her palms against her legs, not noticing his squirming. “Huh, you really are honest aren’t you? Whatever ya say, tough guy. Imma get some sleep, m'kay? And thanks.”

He merely grunted, watching as she went inside and slid the now cracked glass door shut. It was strange, seeing the mess she was and feeling the sudden urge to follow her inside. Feeling somehow responsible even though he hadn't done anything. Feeling that maybe they could help one another in their hopelessness. Feeling…

_Don’t. Stop this._

Vegeta jumped up lightly onto the railing behind him, using his ki to help him balance as he continued to stare at the curtains behind the closed glass. He should leave. The warrior side of his brain was focused solely on doing what would benefit him, what would make him stronger. But, there was a whisper of something else…

_You need to leave, Vegeta. She won't help you train. Won’t help you claim your destiny. Won’t help you survive._

“Shut up,” he whispered harshly to himself. His thoughts were so loud lately, egging him into a delirious stupor when training. Chanting that he had to be stronger, faster, tougher. As if he didn't already know. “I _do_ know.”

_Then why are you still here?_

He let the thought linger for a moment. Then, with a gentle push, he launched off the railing and flew to the roof of the domed building of Bulma's home. The night was cool, the stars were out, and he figured he didn’t mind sleeping out here. It was nice out, and he couldn’t sleep anyway lately.

_You’re lying to yourself. If you’re worried about the earth woman, don’t be._

Vegeta didn’t respond to those thoughts, instead choosing to gaze up into the sky, his back laid against the smooth roof as he wished to find the space his planet would've occupied. If only he could see… if only once more.

But it was gone and he was lost.

He would always be lost.

**+.+.+**

She was on her balcony again, a thin line of smoke snaking up into the dark blue sky as the red ember of her cigarette hung from her lips. There were dark circles under her eyes, and that was something Vegeta could see more and more often on her pale face. Bulma had looked down to see him walking across the lawn, fresh out from a shower after training and just needing some air. He had sensed her looking at him and had stopped, turning his head to see what she wanted. But that was just it. It almost seemed she didn’t want anything. Bulma didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle, just watched him.

They stood like that for a few moments, Vegeta cocking his head to the side just slightly as if in question. Again, she just watched, her eyes roaming his frame before she leaned back a little and smiled, moving the burning vice between two slim fingers away from her mouth. It was strange, Vegeta thought to himself, how he could still feel the ghost of his tail at the weirdest times. How, at that moment, he could almost feel the tightening around his waist, the bristling of the hair, how the flush that ran to his cheeks was unprecedented and embarrassing.

Still, he didn’t walk away. Didn’t look away. Up until this stare down, he had been fuming to himself, pacing his room before finally having the urge to go outside and cool off. Vegeta was completely and utterly frustrated. No matter how much he worked, how hard he trained, how great his strength grew, he couldn’t seem to unlock the legendary power. The Super Saiyan transformation. The thing a low-class had taken from him without even breaking a sweat, without having been trained to control his body and mind for such an intense change in strength and body.

And yet, Kakarot had done it. Vegeta had even begged the clown to defeat the tyrant who plagued his entire life when he was dying on Namek. Had been told by Kakarot later that Vegeta had told him everything about Vegeta’s childhood, about Frieza destroying his home and killing his family and their entire race. Had explained how Frieza had everything stolen from him.

Now, Vegeta couldn’t seem to grasp what was rightfully his. Couldn’t claim the Super Saiyan form he so desperately craved. It all slipped through his fingers like fine sand, no matter how much he tried to hold on. He was on edge; he felt like giving up. But, in this moment, with Bulma looking to him as if he were the only one on this planet, during this quiet and moonlit night, he felt _something_. A pull. Maybe a purpose. Maybe just a phase. But he felt something as her ocean-blue eyes silently beckoned him up to her.

So, he went, flying up to hover on the other side of her balcony, arms crossed lightly over his chest as he met her at eye-level. The dark circles under and around her lash lines were worse up close, but he said nothing, instead holding her gaze. He wasn’t one to back down, even in a silent challenge like this, and he found himself almost wanting to smile. Since when did this woman have the nerve? Since when did he listen?

She broke first. “I pulled another all-nighter. It all ended in failure, as I expected.”

He grunted slightly, still staring her down. “What did?”

“Something new I’ve been working on. Can't tell you though. It's a secret until I perfect it.” She placed the cigarette back between her lips, took a long drag, then doused the burning end into an ashtray on a small table beside her. She blew the smoke away from Vegeta's before turning to face him. Something about her expression was different tonight. It reminded him of the night she nearly fell from this very spot, but with a twist.

Lonely. Curious. Almost hungry, but definitely forlorn.

“What do you want, woman?” He stared at her, still wondering why he had even come up. Wondering how she was able to… diffuse him like that. Realized he no longer felt stir-crazy with anger. It wasn’t gone; the anger was never _really_ gone. But it wasn’t making him feel like he could blow up a planet. In fact, he was starting to feel something akin to calm.

Her tone dipped then as she leaned her arms against the railing, cerulean hair gleaming nearly silver in the soft blue light as her face came a mere foot within his. “What do you want, Vegeta? Because, I’ll level with you. I haven’t had a single night in months where I haven't thought about you. In more ways than one, but really, about how alike you and I are.”

He balked slightly at her nearness, but didn’t back down. “We're nothing alike, Briefs.”

“You’re wrong,” she grinned then, a sad smile that began to morph into something else. “You're just as lonely as I am. And I want to make you less so.” The next look she gave him made his stomach bottom out, almost made him forget how to fly. The look in her eyes. It was lust, desire, _need_. She _wanted_ him?

Women had ever looked at him like that. Women looked at Raditz, for sure, and sometimes even Nappa. But never Vegeta. He had been too rude, too snappy and distant to attract anyone close to him. Yet, somehow, here he was less than six or seven inches from this weak female's nose and he felt a fire burn in his chest, his stomach, his hands. Even more surprising, Vegeta _liked_ it. Nerves began to creep up his throat, to tell him she was playing games with him, that no one could want him. He heard Raditz and Nappa laughing in his head, trying to convince him that Bulma was no one to him. Even heard Zarbon and Frieza as they barraged his thoughts. He was a weakling. A tool. A means to an end. Just like she had said the last time they were on this balcony.

And, for the first time since such anxiety attacks had happened, he shoved all those thoughts aside. Thoughts of the past; all his agony and resentment for his life. He pushed it all to a corner of his mind. He only wanted to be in this moment. For _once_ , he wanted to be someone else.

His eyes followed her movements, watching as one finger touched his chest and dragged its way slowly up under his chin. She pushed there, tipping his head up a bit, and he found himself powerless to resist her. His breath started to come in short as her fingernails dragged slowly along his neck back down to his chest. Her lashes fluttered slightly as she looked up at him, her other hand moving around to the back of his neck, slowly. He felt every moment, something electric coursing through him from every place she touched, skin or otherwise. It almost felt like ki, but with more spark, headier than anything he had ever felt before. This was all new.

He had never let _anyone_ touch him casually like this. Especially not women. Not _her_. If anything, he had been avoiding her, unwilling to admit how she had haunted his thoughts throughout the days and nights as of late. He thought of her anger that night week ago, her tears and booze and lonely, painful thoughts. Tried not to think about how much it reminded him of his one time getting drunk all those years ago, sloppily cursing at and fighting anyone who got too close. Thought of how much pain the alcohol had allowed him to feel and how he hadn't cared. And also just how much he did. Thought again of Raditz, who had helped him that night and never judged the steady flow of tears from the young prince. Thought about how much Raditz had felt like a brother, and how painful his death still was sometimes.

His eyes refocused on the woman in front of him.

No, he had tried to avoid Bulma because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did come across her. Didn’t trust himself around her, and didn’t trust how she would react. Didn’t like how he wondered what it would be like to touch her skin, to run his fingers through her nearly alien hair. He hated it.

“You don’t want me.” He grumbled, trying not to sound as choked as he felt, an involuntary shiver travelling up his back as her other hand brushed his spine.

Yet here he was, pathetically bending to her will. His breath hitched involuntarily as both her hands traveled up the back of his neck and into his hair, scratching just slightly at his scalp. Her voice was barely audible, tone sultry as she spoke again. “I _do_ want you, Vegeta.” She leaned in even closer, his blood already beginning a path south, her breath hot and tongue wet as she grazed his earlobe. He felt himself hiss, trying to repress a moan when she said, “But, what do _you_ want?” 

She nipped his ear and he gasped, “ _Fuck_.”

He couldn’t answer fast enough in that moment. With a growl, Vegeta threw his legs over the railing, landed on his feet, and pushed her back against the now fixed glass of her sliding door. His hands moved on their own, one grabbing at her hip while the other tangled up into her hair and tipped her face back just slightly. She gasped, and it was all he needed. He crushed his mouth to hers, fingers tightening around her hip, body moving to press against hers as if of its own will. Her surprise left her quickly as Bulma melted into him, her hands sliding up his back and giving a vicious tug to the back of his hair.

The motion pulled Vegeta's mouth away from hers, just by an inch or so, and he opened his eyes to see hers challenging him. He felt a wicked grin split his face as the hand on her hip moved around to the small of her back before moving even lower, pulling her into him roughly. “This isn't your smartest moment, Briefs.” He could tell the guttural tone of his statement was doing something to her, watching as her dark eyelashes fluttered shut for a moment, his hand squeezing her firm butt. “I'm not a good man.”

She moaned before tugging his hair again, freeing one of her hands from the dark tresses and tucking it under his fitted, black tank top. “And _I'm_ not a good girl.” She stopped her path up his stomach and looked him square in the eye, her next words heated and honest. “I just want you. I think that’s simple, don’t you?”

He chuckled, a low sound as he pulled her even closer before picking her up, legs wrapping around his hips as he kissed her again. His tongue ran along her lips to gain access to her mouth and she was quick to oblige. They stumbled past the sliding door, Vegeta barely managing to shut it as he realized his legs were starting to shake. He had never felt this way before. A carnal, primal desire had been uncaged and he couldn’t reign it in, not for a moment.

_Wait._

They were on the bed now, mouths exploring each other. Eventually, when they came up for air, Vegeta used his leverage over her to slide down a bit, keeping her pinned beneath him as he nipped and licked and sucked his way down her neck, across her collarbones, pulling at the stretchy fabric of her thin undershirt until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He gripped the pink top and ripped it clean in half, hardly giving her a moment before he gazed at the swell of her breasts under a light pink bra. Her face was flushed, her eyes basically stripping him bare with just a look. He could tell she might have been mad about the shirt if she wasn't already getting what she wanted. _Fuck_ she wanted him, and right now, he wanted _her_. 

Bulma.

_Stop._

He must’ve been staring because she suddenly propped up onto her elbows, leaning up to his face a bit as he sat back on his knees, straddling her. She tugged on his black shirt lightly, easing it up his abdomen. “You like what you see?”

“Do you?” He shot back. Watched as she pulled his shirt up to under his arms, smile coy and lips swollen pink. He lifted his arms to let her pull the shirt over his head at an angle before leaning back over her, his fingers deftly unclasping her bra. He was trying to drown in her, to ignore the cynical voice trying to budge his resolve. Her could hear it, like a wind carried along the trees, whispering.

Bulma's voice was trying to cut through the noise as she answered his partially rhetorical question. “Oh, you bet I do. I've never seen someone with a body like yours.” She smiled cattishly as she lay back down. “I wonder what else you can show me.”

_Hold on!_

_Shut up._

Her mouth was on his again, hands roaming over his back. Her fingers bumped over his scars ever so slightly and, suddenly, in the middle of kissing her, touching her, his tongue roaming along her neck and down her chest, the voice became louder. Made him hesitate. She was obviously clay in his hands, and he in hers, but the lines were blurring in his head. Her hands moved to the waistband of his sweats, long slender legs squeezing his hips, and he felt his need for her becoming apparent against the fabric of his pants. It should have been all the invitation he needed. Instead, he froze.

**_Stop!_ **

“Vegeta?” Bulma questioned, her voice soft, breath coming in short from their deep, endless kissing. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can't.” Vegeta sat up, looking down at her half naked body and hating himself for being here. Couldn’t believe someone like him, with the hands of a murderer, was even being allowed to touch her. That she wanted him to touch her. He must be crazy if he thought he had a snowballs chance in fucking hell of being with a woman like Bulma. One-night-stand or otherwise. “No… I can't… not with you.”

Her face looked hurt then, a pained frown turning her bruised lips down. She sat up on her elbows again and stared at him. “Why not?”

Vegeta shook his head, already starting to sit back on his haunches as he tried to scoot away from her. Tried to ignore the pulsing sensation in his pants as she moved, her skin practically glowing in the soft moonlight. He had to leave, was trying to get away before he hurt her. But she was fast, her hand reaching out to snatch at his arm as she pulled herself up to face him, sitting on her knees as she thrust her face near his. “ _Why not?_ ”

He felt himself starting to pull into a shell, felt his usual anger try to take over the millions of other things he was starting to experience emotionally. Ignored how the fire in his belly was burning for only this woman in this moment and he had no idea why. Pulling his arm out from under her touch, he slipped off the bed, leaving his shirt discarded on the floor as he slipped his feet back into his boots, trying to avoid eye contact.

But, the woman wouldn’t have it. She stood on the bed, wrapping her soft blanket around her as she glared daggers down at him. “Answer me, goddammit! Why can't you do this with me?! Am I not enough for your sorry, royal ass?!”

“Woman,” he warned, his back still mostly facing her. He could see her furious, form from his peripherals, her blue hair tangled and puffed from where his hands had been grasping it.

“No! No, I deserve a reason! You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I _know_ I was! So what’s stopping you now?!”

He faced her just slightly, a tired, exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he looked at her legs. Couldn’t look her in the eye.

_Can't afford friends, Vegeta. Can't afford family._

_She isn't either of those things._

**_But she could be._ **

“What, giving me the silent treatment now?!” She was really starting to yell. Vegeta was afraid she would wake someone. Then again, the walls here were thick and her parent’s room was on the other side of the compound. It didn’t lessen the anxiety of being caught with her. “Vegeta, come on! I know you like me, and I happen to like you, so why?! Am I really…” she choked, nagging his attention. He looked up and saw a pale hand covering her mouth while the anger in her eyes became watery. “Am I making all this up?”

_Leave. LEAVE!_

He felt something. A hard lump blocking his throat, reminding him of everything else he lost. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t destroy her life too, after everything she had done for him. He would never understand it, why she paid attention to him at all. Even before they had started to come to terms as casual acquaintances for late night coffees, or listening as she bounced scientific stuff off him during her creation-induced tirades, he didn’t understand her. She had cared in a way no one ever had. He didn’t want to soil someone as bright and beautiful as she was, and he had been about to do so. He hated himself for it, hated everything about the blood on his hands and the warrior in his veins. Hated himself more than he could stand. Coming to her had been a mistake. He began to realize his only true destiny was to be alone and strong, nothing else. He did not deserve her affection, no matter how temporary.

“Bulma,” he pleaded. It caught her attention, made her listen. He had never used her name in this way, as if it were special. As if it meant something. He was starting to realize that, maybe it did. Maybe _she_ did. “You have everything. I cannot do this with you, because I am not who or what you need. I’m a monster, a killer, and I am not sure if I even want redemption. All I know is that I can't do this to you. I _can't_.”

Then, before she could say anything, he took a few steps back and was out the balcony door. He shot into the air, flying as fast and as far as he could go. Heard her call after him, heard her screaming for him to come back, but he just kept going, letting his hatred burn through his ki. Burn out of control. Burn through his pores as the energy licked painfully at his skin like fire. Let his own power consume him.

It was nothing compared to the pain ripping through his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally couldn't remember what song I wrote the beginning of this chapter to, but I know the song I did put up there was used for the last bit, hahaha.  
> I hope you guys like this! I know I'm skipping a lot of canon moments, but that's because I really wanted to put the focus more on what was going on during those in-between moments we never get to see. Y'all have seen the fights and the enemies enough, I feel. Now, we're tackling the real enemy; Vegeta's mind.


	6. Pardons and Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, Vegeta can't live in the desert forever. There isn't enough food for him unless he starts eating people. And he won't do that because it would upset Bulma.  
> That's what he told me. In his tsundere way.
> 
> **Written to:**   
>  **It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)//The 1975**   
>  **I Never Loved Before I Found You//Front Porch Step**
> 
> (The 2nd song is suuuuper sad, I'm sorry, but it gave me the fuel I needed for the ending of this chapter, hehehe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two beautiful art pieces are by [HannaBellLecter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannabelllecter)!!! Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!! You beautiful human.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

When he came back, it had been over a week. Mrs. Briefs greeted him as if he had been gone for years. She shoo-ed him away, insisting he shower while she made him a large lunch, not bothering to ask why he wasn’t wearing a shirt. That was fine with him; it gave him time.

He didn’t run in to Bulma and was grateful for it. But he was also nervous, wondering if she would kick him out for good. As the hot water streamed down his back, he reached with his senses to pinpoint her ki. He had finally started to get the hang of sensing energy, and was worried he wouldn’t be able to locate her with how low her ki was. After a moment, however, he found her. She seemed to be in the labs with her father a couple compounds over, and he felt himself relax a bit. He had to figure out what he was going to do, what he was going to say when she found out he was back. This was way outside his realm of expertise, and way outside his emotional capability.

_You're a broken, toy soldier. Can't afford friends._

_You hurt her._

“Shut up,” he grumbled to himself, focusing on scrubbing the dirt off his skin and relishing the warmth of the water coursing over him. Though he hadn’t been gone that long, it was long enough that he had missed hot water and proper baths. He found it almost funny how quickly comfort could try and erase the seemingly endless years of needing basic living necessities. Even his stomach had nearly forgotten what hunger was. But the pain was still there, at least. In his bones and muscles, in the cuts along his hands, the scars littering his chest and back, and still the dull ache in his chest. Phantom pain, he had come to realize, may never go away.

Shaking himself, he put his focus back to the battle at hand. Facing Bulma. He knew he had to do this, knew she would want an explanation for his behavior. Besides, he had nowhere else to go.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he stopped short, sensing that Bulma had moved back into the main house. Shit, why hadn’t he noticed? He considered turning back and heading for one of the guest bedrooms, considered leaving out the back door and flying off to the middle of nowhere again. But, before he could rationalize his way out of facing the room Bulma was in, she was there before him, turning the corner.

**_Oh._ **

She was beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered. Her hair fell nearly straight, hanging just above her slender shoulders. There was still some curl to the blue tresses, but not like when he had last seen her. Strange, since it had only been about ten days, but he noticed all the same. The real kicker though was she was wearing the tank top he had left on her floor that night. Her eyes locked to his the moment she stepped out from the kitchen’s arched entryway and he watched her as she phased through emotions. Surprise, hurt, anger, embarrassment, then finally, exhaustion. Not the one he expected her to land on, but he said nothing, standing completely still as she walked towards him. She stopped only when she was at the crossroads of the hallways. She was barely a handful of feet from him, perfectly within arm’s reach, but he couldn’t move. The look on her face kept him frozen.

“You better thank my mother for making you all that food. I haven’t seen her cook that fast since Goku's last visit.” Her voice was withdrawn, not full of its usual cheer or bite like he was used to.

_Look at what you’ve done._

He nodded, voice caught in his throat as she turned to walk the other way, headed for the front door. He wanted to stop her, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

_Can’t afford friends, remember? Surviving is all that matters. Train, get stronger, avenge your people. Beat Kakarot._

_She deserves better than that._

**_She deserves better than you._ **

He grappled with himself, the handful of seconds feeling like full minutes before he gave himself a shake and moved. Followed her as her hand touched the handle of the door and reached over her tiny shoulder to hold it shut, angling himself so she wouldn’t feel trapped under him. He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to scare her. Just wanted her to understand. She didn’t look up, her eyes trained on the doorknob under her delicate fingers. “What do you want, asshole?”

Vegeta felt himself flinch, unsure of how to answer her. What _did_ he want? He struggled with the thought, making a nearly strangled, frustrated sigh as he leaned forward slightly, noticing how she shifted off to his left. Laying the side of his head onto his forearm, he rested his weight against the door a bit as he scanned her face. She had asked him the very same question several days and nights ago; had asked what he wanted. This time her question was laced with anger. It struck him then. Realization, that no one had ever asked him what he wanted before.

_To win. To survive. To train and be the best, the strongest._

_To matter._

Bulma merely glared, crossing her arms over her chest as her ocean eyes burned holes into him. “Well? Spit it out. I have work to do.”

There it was. Her spark. It made him feel more comfortable, made the voice of doubt quiet to a whisper as he saw her usual feistiness returning. Even if she was mad at him, he preferred her being loud and angry than hollow and meek. Bulma was anything but meek. And she was somehow holding back the waves of his self-hatred with just her presence. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Didn’t know how she did it. Didn’t know why he found it comforting.

“I want…” he halted, voice rough. He hadn’t spoken much the last week and he had to take a moment to regather his courage, to clear his throat. Clear his head. “I wanted to apologize... for my actions the other night.”

She frowned, bottom lip sticking out ever so slightly. He had the strangest urge to pin her to the wall, to take that lip into his mouth and drown in her again. Knew he couldn’t, that he shouldn’t. “Which part? Kissing me or leaving me wet and unsatisfied?”

He felt his face flush and clicked his tongue at her. “Vulgar woman.”

"Not an answer."

“Both, I guess.” He could hardly look at her, focusing instead on the door and his forearm. “I’m… I-I'm sorry.”

He watched from his periphery as her eyebrows arched up, surprised obviously. Her arms tightened around her curved frame, eyes never leaving his face. The heat of the flush creeping up his neck grew even hotter and he had to turn his face fully away. Even his ears felt hot. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Why had he apologized?! This wasn’t like him. Not at all.

_Get angry._

_No._

**_What... is happening?_ **

When he felt ready to give up, on her and himself, he heard a small, almost cute laugh escape her. He looked up, exasperated as he gave her a flat look when he noticed. She was smiling at him, a real, nearly soft one. It was a small victory, but he would take what he could get.

“Would you listen to that? The Prince himself is apologizing.” She giggled gently, eyes seeming less harsh, less sharp.

“Tch. Don’t get used to it woman.” He lifted his head a bit. “I could just take it back.”

“Oh, whatever.” She waved a hand in the air between them, her tiny smile growing into a full one as she did. “I heard you Vegeta. You can’t take it back now.”

He stood straight then, already turning to head for the smell of breakfast. His face and ears still burned from the heat that had consumed his body. Still, he couldn’t help but smile just a bit to himself as the sound of her soft laugh filled the hallway. “Apology accepted, ‘Bad Man'. But you better be nicer to me from now on, or you’re sleeping outside permanently!”

“An empty threat, but fine.” He said gruffly over his shoulder. He could tell from her laugh that she knew he was asking for a peace offering. And she had accepted.

As he sat down to eat, and Panchy Briefs began serving him heaps of food on large platters, Vegeta found himself tracking Bulma’s ki. He did that for the rest of the day, finally feeling that, maybe, he could prove the cynic in him wrong.

**+.+.+**

They had settled into a routine by now. Vegeta would wake early, train, sit down for breakfast, train some more, eat lunch, then train until dinner. Sometimes he skipped lunch altogether if he was really hitting a groove, or just when he lost track of time. And Bulma woke late, sat in the kitchen chugging her too-sweet coffee, and then stumbled into her labs until she trudged back into the house when dinner was nearly over. He would argue with her as she sleepily ate her food, having already finished his own, but it was more like verbal sparring than a means to hurt one another. It was a steady, predictable schedule.

She called him a jerk often, but always with that slight turn of her pink mouth. And he called her a harpy, but even he felt the ghost of a smile on his lips when he said it. Her company was more than tolerable now.

She seemed to be glad he was back.

And he found himself glad he was too.

Everything was going smoothly, far more than he had expected. At least, until today.

Vegeta had been eating lunch, a towel draped about his shoulders. He had chugged two bottles of water and then sat to eat the rows of sandwiches Mrs. Briefs had laid out for him. It was like clockwork now; he would arrive and eat, usually alone, and then go back to his training regimen. Except, this time, he was halfway through a fourth bottle of water and a third foot-long sub when Panchy burst into the kitchen, her face twisted with worry. Vegeta was surprised not by her entering the kitchen, but by the state of her; hardly anything seemed to shake the mother of this house.

“Vegeta dear, I think we may need your help.” She gasped, voice pitched up in worry as she gazed at him. One of her slender hands was grasping the frame of the kitchen entryway, as if to steady herself. “It’s Bulma, she –”

He was on his feet almost immediately, cringing at himself for reacting so strongly. Normally he wouldn’t. Normally, he would laugh and wave the blonde woman away to finish his lunch. But, the way Panchy was panting as if she had run the whole way, and in the slight tremble of her voice, Vegeta knew something was really wrong. He breezed past her, headed through the already open back doors, and then flew to the laboratory compound. He covered ground in seconds, shouldering his way through a group of white-coat scientists who were still stumbling out of the building when he arrived.

_What the hell is going on here?_

Something akin to panic tried to rise in his chest, only this time is wasn’t for himself. He shoved the feeling away, trying instead to think of any and all possibilities. A fire, a gunman, radioactive area, electrocution, collapsing floors, anything that he would have to face. He was surprised to find, however, that as he made his way down into the lower labs, none of those things were happening. Not even close. The thing everyone was running from was the one person he thought was in danger.

The woman was cursing up a storm, books and papers and glass beakers flying around the room as she hurled them with more strength than Vegeta had thought possible. Her anger on a level he’d never seen, his eyes widening as he took big strides down the hall and peered through the lab’s long, narrow strip of glass to where she was. Her hair was back to its natural straightness, but with how wild and tangled it was now, no one would ever think so.

His steps slowed as he watched her rip her lab apart, hair and hands flying, cussing loudly even through the thick glass before him. It was chaos, pure and strong and violent.

The prince found he kind of liked it. She looked like a wild, Saiyan warrior. Would have even admitted it to himself and to her if it wasn’t clear the she was endangering herself in the process.

Vegeta approached the lab door and pressed a hand onto the button to open the door. It beeped loudly at him and flashed red. Frowning down at it, he tried again, but the result was the same. The sound must have caught Bulma's attention though because the crashing sounds stopped suddenly. Then, with a soft hiss, the door slid open without Vegeta having to touch anything, his arms wanting to cross his chest but also stay down by his sides. The woman before him was practically foaming at the mouth and he didn’t want her to do something stupid if he looked intimidating.

_What kind of dumb shit is that to think? You’re always intimidating._

_Not to her._

_Bullshit. Leave her be. She'll figure this out. It isn't too late._

_You’re right. It's not._

**_It's not too late._ **

Vegeta stepped forward slowly, taking a long breath in from his nose before letting it out again the same route. Bulma stared at him, or more like through him, a hand clasped tightly about some bundles of wire wrapped around a thick chunk of metal and circuitry. Her white lab coat was dusty and wrinkled, a few colorful stains dotting different sections. Underneath was a body-hugging red dress with thin black stripes running horizontally across the fabric. Her shoes weren’t the lab standard he saw the others wearing on his way in, but the dark, mustard yellow boots that she wore everywhere else. It’s how he knew she hadn’t come here to work; she was here to destroy.

Vegeta knew he was crazy to be here. Crazy to be standing in front of a woman who was - most likely - the only person in existence smart enough to kill him where he stood. Knew he was crazy to start enjoying her companionship around the house in the small moments he crossed paths with her.

But here he was, trying to bring her down from whatever destructive high she was currently on. What a damn hypocrite he was.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the flame returned to her eyes and, before he could blink, she was chucking the metal and wires in her hand across the room. It collided with a row of empty flasks and sent them shattering to the floor. Vegeta would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised, that he didn’t flinch ever so slightly at the shining glass pieces he noticed were strewn all around the lab floors as she grabbed a few other items blindly and launched them like missiles. He even had to sidestep a few when they flew his way. Then, with a furious yell, Bulma reached for one of the smaller desks beside her and flipped it on its side in one grand push.

“Fuck this place!” She shrieked, cheeks red with her anger. “I cant trust anyone! I cant get anything done because everyone around me has to be an incompetent, sneaky _lowlife!_ ”

“Bulma,” Vegeta started, standing absolutely still as she paced madly across the room at different angles.

“No. No! No one gets to be mad but _me_. No one gets to be hurt but _me_ right now! They all want to be the victim out there but hoooo buddy, today it's _me_.” She stomped over to the bigger desk, grabbed something off of it, then stomped over to Vegeta.

He would also be lying if her purposeful movements didn’t terrify him for a moment.

She stopped and held out her hand sharply, eyes blazing into him as if she would set him on fire if he didn’t comply. So, he held out his hand and watched as something cold and smooth and weighty fell onto his hand. It looked like a stone.

Vegeta looked up at the huffing woman and shook his head slowly, confused. “What is it?”

“A fucking _spy cam!"_

He turned it over and over until he saw it. In the small pock-marks of the apparent stone was the smallest glint of light. A camera lens. The other small holes along the rock must have been for audio, he guessed, as he looked back up to her face. He felt himself flinch again when he saw thick, angry tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

After a moment of hesitation, Vegeta sighed softly. “Bulma, I… I don’t understand the scale of how bad this is for you, but do you know who would put that here?”

His question apparently spurred something in her because her fury reached a new level as she gripped at her lab coat so tightly, he swore she was tearing it. “Yes! Of course I do! But I didn’t want to tell anyone because then I would have to face the truth about earlier this afternoon!”

He cocked an eyebrow, the small stone still sitting in his open palm between them. Something felt off, and he could sense a shift in her ki as she opened her mouth and shut it again. She was hesitating. It wasn’t something he had ever seen her do in his short time on earth.

Then, her tears went from silent and angry to a heavy, broken sob. Bulma sunk to the floor, a hand covering her mouth and her eyes sliding shut. Vegeta, still holding the small rock, found himself kneeling in front of her, his free hand sweeping a few shards of glass out of the way. She was starting to genuinely worry him. “Bulma, what is going on? What happened?”

She shook her head, an arm wrapping around her middle as she rocked forward. She was gasping between sobs and Vegeta began to feel uncomfortable. He gave her shoulder a light shake and her head lifted slightly, eyes opening to look at him. “Woman, snap out of it! If you know who did this, then you need to do something other than destroy your lab!”

Bulma sucked in another breath, seemingly gathering her thoughts before she whispered the truth. “Someone tried to… he tried to… I was stronger than he thought. I guess he was trying… to get a video…”

Vegeta felt his hand closing around the disguised camera, felt it beginning to crunch under his fingers as her broken words started to make connections. She wasn’t done though, the events pouring from her now. “He had been recording for at least the last several months. Gave me that fucking ridiculous rock as a lucky charm or some bullshit. I thought it was weird, but sweet. Turns out he’s been sending my research work directly to a company that’s been trying to bring Capsule Corps down for a while. They don’t have the brains like my dad, or me, and they’ve been trying to get our secrets. We do heavy background checks on everyone who works here. To have someone not only infiltrate my personal lab and my genius research… but then try to man handle me!? To try and blackmail me?! It gets my blood fucking _boiling!_ ”

The rock in his hand crunched, shattering into bits of dust and small wires. He was angry. No, he was _furious_. He wanted to wrap his hands around the neck of the man who had dared try to harm this woman in front of him. Wanted to break them; to kill them. He was so overwhelmed by this feeling that he almost didn’t hear her next words.

“I fired him.”

Vegeta shook his head again, trying to hear her through the blood pounding in his ears. “What?”

“After I punched him, of course." She glanced at him for a split second, and pride spread through him. "He’s been detained by the police and will be thoroughly charged for his actions, as well as sued by my family. That company will never try us again… and I… I just got so mad. I was in shock for about an hour, making all the appropriate calls and telling my father. I just didn’t tell him about… no one knows about… the attempted…”

She was falling apart again, her eyes trained somewhere on his shoulder most of her confession. But now, she looked right into his eyes and something snapped in him. She needed someone right now. He wasn’t sure why she was choosing him, of all people, but she was. He could see it in the desperate, pleading way her gaze was searching his, and he knew he couldn’t resist her. He had felt that way before, as a boy, and knew how deep rejection could cut if he turned her away.

_No. Walk away, Vegeta. You’re becoming weak on this backwater planet. Walk away._

_No. Not this time._

He tossed the now destroyed spy-cam off to the side, then in one smooth motion, gathered Bulma to his chest and stood up. She made a small sound, maybe of surprise, but didn’t struggle. Instead, she gave him short, quiet instructions on exiting the building another way, so her other employees wouldn’t see the state she was in. They made their way out onto the lawn through the back of the building. She told him he could set her down, but instead, he tightened his hold a bit and took to the sky. Bulma let out a yelp, her hands clinging tightly to his neck. Within moments, they were landing on her balcony, her heart pumping against his chest as he slowly set her feet on the ground.

She didn’t let go, however. Her chest was pressed up against his, her cheeks flushed, though whether it was because of the day's events or their closeness, Vegeta wasn’t sure. In fact, he kind of hoped it was the latter. Wondered why he was hoping such a thing but the thought wouldn’t stop sprinting around his head. He wanted her to want him, and he realized with sudden clarity, that he wanted her too. In what way, he still wasn’t entirely positive, but he couldn’t find the will to release her.

She stared up at him for several, long moments, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Her face had moved closer to his almost imperceptibly, and he could smell her arousal, could feel the hitch in her breathing as her heart rate sped up. And he… he knew he couldn’t resist her, couldn’t say no to her if she asked him into her room. This time he couldn’t run. He knew, with a hundred percent certainty, that he would only have the power to leave if she asked him to.

**_She’s terrifying._ **

“Vegeta,” she breathed, quiet and with a slight tremble.

He felt a rumble deep in his chest, his need for her growing by the second, but he held back. He needed to know what she wanted. Needed to know that the voices in his head were wrong, that Nappa and Raditz were wrong when they talked to him in his dreams. He lowered his head just slightly, tucking his mouth down towards her neck and shoulder. She smelled like chemicals and disinfectant at first, but as his lips neared her skin, his nose was filled with her. Floral and semi-sweet, with an under layer of pheromone musk, and he barely contains the urge to lick her. “What do you want, woman?”

Her knees were shaking, leaning her weight into him. Her breathing was ragged as she spoke again. “I want… I…”

“Say it,” his voice was filled with rough emotion, with unbearable need. Normally he would be embarrassed by showing so much of himself to a woman that still felt like a stranger to him most days. But he had spent so long wondering what it would be like to have her, to be with the woman who snared his attention the moment he met her. This time he didn’t stop himself, his tongue dragging along the expanse of her neck and up to her ear, relishing in the shiver he felt spread through her entire body. His blood was practically humming as he said, “ _Say it_ , Bulma.”

Her hands shot up, grabbing his hair gently and pulling him as close to her as she could. Her next words were a whisper, a command. “I want _you_.”

_Fuck._

Vegeta feels a moan leave him and crushes his lips against hers, his hands coming up to tangle into her hair. She made a sound, something guttural and deep that stoked the fire she had already started in him. He moved, scooping up her legs so they wrapped around his waist and used his senses to know where the entrance to her room was. He let go of one leg just long enough to slide the door open, walk in, and shut it behind him. One of Bulma’s hands was already grabbing for the hem of his shirt and he bit her lip, trying not to hurt her but feeling _so much_ at once he didn’t know how to deal with it.

_She’s making you weak, Vegeta._

_No! Shut up, just… shut up._

**_I want this._ **

He dropped her onto the bed and whipped his shirt over his head faster than she could sit up. Bulma was reaching up behind her back to help remove one of her clothing items, but he leaned over in his elbows and growled, “Don’t move.” Her sapphire eyes questioned him, hesitating in her motions. Vegeta angled towards her ear, nipping and licking his way up from her collarbone. “I said, don’t move, Bulma.”

The shiver that ran through her was visible, the skin he could see starting to pimple with pleasure. The humming in his veins raised into a roar and he couldn’t stop the guttural sound that ripped through him. Grabbing her lab coat and dress from around her back, he hauled her up to meet his lips, kissing her deeply. With one swift motion, he pulled the clothing over her head and chucked them to the side. He was caught between wanting to bury himself into her in every way, or to draw this moment out and take it slow. They were a balancing act, riding an edge they had previously touched but he had backed away from. But this moment wasn’t just a choice, it was a gravitational pull, and he was powerless against it.

Bulma’s breath hitched again as the cool air touched her nearly bare chest. He tossed the balled-up fabric aside and began to kiss her again, his hands exploring her body with rapt attention. She was soft, much softer than he had been anticipating. Her skin was warm too, made warmer by the blood he swore he could hear pumping through her veins. She arched into his touch, skin coming up to press more firmly against his mouth as he began to make a trail down her stomach. His hands were palming over her breasts, and he couldn’t stand the fabric still covering the skin there. He wanted to feel her; all of her. So, with one slight tug of his fingers, he ripped the thing in half, right between her two, perfect mounds of flesh. He felt her thighs squeeze his hips and it took an immense amount of control not to dive into her, to take her right then as she sighed his name.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was still wrong.

Everything about their situation should be considered bad; he knew her friends would think so. Hell, even Kakarot probably disapproved. Nappa and Raditz would laugh at him for getting himself tangled up in someone at all, much less someone like Bulma. Smart, beautiful, and feisty, like the Saiyan women he was always told about. But Vegeta knew better; people like her always ended up dead in his world. It was better not to get attached.

_Don’t have time for a family._

Yet, the mere _thought_ of her not breathing pained him. Bulma not screaming at him for breaking more bits of her house, or acting angry when she patched up his wounds with tears in her eyes, was like salt in an open wound. His brain couldn’t stop pulling up scenarios. Imagining what could happen to her with him around to destroy everything, like he always did, was making his chest hurt. He was supposed to blow up this stupid, filthy planet, and yet he couldn’t bear the thought of Bulma not sighing his name, or running her nails up and down his back and sides like she was now. She was an oasis, a shelter in his horribly dark life, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might not be able to control her gravity.

_You don’t deserve a family._

_But Bulma does. She deserves to live. She deserves to be alive. To feel alive._

_What about you? You haven’t felt alive in over a decade. Nearly two. What makes her so much more worthy? Don’t you deserve to feel the joy of slaughtering thousands? The thrill of destroying a planet using only half your strength? Don’t you want to feel the power of death? Look at her – a weakling, just begging for you to plunge your fist through. It will make you stronger._

_Surviving is priority, right?_

**_Right?_ **

“Hey,” Bulma breathed, startling him as her hands clasped his face and pulled him up towards her. The dark teal of her brows were knit with concern and… something else. Something he couldn’t decipher. He prayed it wasn’t pity.

She whispered in his ear, trailing soft kisses along his jaw. “Don’t go there. Don’t get lost in your head, like last time. Just… be here, right now, with me.”

At her words, the tension in his body and the noise in his brain began to fizzle out. Her soft hands roamed down his face, his neck, his chest, and around to his hips. The cool touch of her fingers tucked under the hem of his pants and he heard himself suck in a breath, trying to suppress a groan. She was moving slowly on purpose, a way to pull him into the present and out of his own thoughts; she was fucking succeeding.

He lifted his hips ever so slightly to let her push them down, and he looked away from her for the first time since entering her bedroom. Vegeta had never let anyone touch him this way, never let anyone see him vulnerable, and it was taking far more effort to remain calm than he had hoped. But her words echoed in his head, over and over, trying to drown out the mantra of survival he had told himself his entire life. _Be here, with her_. It was all she was asking, and he wanted to oblige. So, as she tugged his pants down over his hips, he closed his eyes and tucked his head into her shoulder, praying he could trust her the way she was trusting him.

Suddenly he could feel her hands on him and every doubtful thought was scattered, replaced with an overwhelming pleasure. Bulma hummed softly as her fingers lightly ran up and down his length, her hair pressing into his cheek almost like she was nuzzling him. Teasing him, more likely, as her hands moved with slow deliberation.

“Woman,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with tension. He didn’t have time to think about what-ifs anymore. He needed her. “Don’t tease me.”

She laughed softly, sparking another primal emotion he wasn’t used to; a warmth that made him want to shelter her. It was maddening. “Oh, are you getting impatient?”

**_That’s it._ **

Vegeta moved quickly, shifting his position and his weight so he could grab both of Bulma’s wrists in one hand. He pushed them above her head, careful not to hold too tightly, and dipped his head into the hollow of her neck again. She was gasping, giggling, and he roamed even lower. Releasing her wrists, he deftly slid the thin black fabric down her legs and let them drop to her ankles. His mouth continued down her stomach until he was at her center. He experimented there with his nose first, her skin slick and hot and almost sweet-smelling. Immediately, her hands were digging into his hair, scraping lightly against his scalp, and he grinned. It was his turn to tease a bit. He kissed her there, and she cursed, causing him to chuckle. He couldn’t help it; he felt drunk on her now. His mind was clouded with desire as he licked her slowly and she bucked against him, whining and tugging at his hair. It wasn’t long before he set a pace there, his dark eyes watching her, his large hands holding her down as she gasped for air.

Before she was lost to the oblivion of ecstasy, he pulled away, dragging his tongue down the inside of her thighs. She huffed, annoyed and breathless, and Vegeta gave her a predatory smile. He was practically throbbing now, his blood crying for the feel of her, so he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned forward to kiss her once more. He felt himself press against her core at the motion, the skin so hot against his own he hissed into Bulma’s mouth.

**_You won’t last long._ **

Bulma stiffened under him, her hands gripping his hips as her eyes opened to look up at him. “Are you sure about this?” Vegeta tried to speak and found his throat to be impossibly tight. “I-I am. What about… are you…?”

She smiled softly and leaned forward again to kiss him, lifting her hips up to his just enough to feel himself slide against her molten heat. He was fairly certain he couldn’t speak anymore; all that was left was the urgency to finish what they had started. Her voice broke through the intense, burning desire in him. “I’m sure… I’ve been sure I wanted this. I just… I had to know if you were too.”

_No._

_Yes._

**_Distraction._ **

He shoved whatever remaining doubts he had aside and, slowly, pushed his hips down to meet Bulma’s. She gasped, nails clawing at him gingerly while his own hands fisted in the bed sheets beneath her. Hot. Everything was hot. It was slick and soft and burning. He was burning, stars swimming behind his eyes as he let instinct take over. His forehead rested against her own, his eyes closed, and he felt their hips moving. He breathed her in, his own lungs taking in ragged gasps of air as a boiling tension built up somewhere below his stomach. This was like nothing he had ever felt, like nothing he had ever done. It was pain. Bliss. Fear. Trust. He wasn’t sure what to land on.

The coil in his abdomen was tightening, reaching its peak, and by the way Bulma had begun to claw at his back, he guessed she was close too. He didn’t know what the right thing to do was, if he was doing anything right. But the woman wasn’t protesting, so he just continued, feeling the tidal wave of heat begin to rise. Then, with a shuddering grunt, the wave broke over him and he was lost in a sea of ecstasy, breathing a raspy, unknown plea into Bulma's ear. Not too soon after, he felt Bulma’s legs give his own one final, tight squeeze. A soft cry broke from her mouth and he felt their bodies pulsing as the blissful feeling washed over them both. They panted, just lying there, Vegeta only half on top of the woman beneath him so his weight didn’t crush her.

After a while, Bulma laughed lightly, her hand running up and down Vegeta’s back. Normally, he would think she might be laughing at him, but something about the energy of her touch told him the opposite. In fact, he almost felt like laughing himself. The high of what they had just done was probably still adding his brain. It was the only explanation for why he would reach out to tenderly touch Bulma’s cheek, wiping a few sweaty strands of hair away. Her face turned toward his and he was trapped in an ocean of blue. Her gaze was open, full, and no longer looking pitiful. She was almost glowing in the fading sun, her smile bruised bright pink and her hand warm as she mirrored his gesture. He even almost smiled.

Her body pressed close to his and after a few minutes, her breathing slowed. Everything in Vegeta’s body told him to get up, to run, that he was a fool for falling for the woman’s schemes. But, instead, he placed a hand on her hip and closed his eyes, not wanting to wake her. In fact, he found himself feeling a bit tired too.

_I just need rest._

_I just need one night without fear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened! A longer chapter and a little smut! Hehehe. And there is only one chapter left. It is a mini event, after all, and I can only write so much! I hope you look forward to the end of this fic, and I'll have a few more notes for you at that time!  
> See you on the other side my dudes.


	7. The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment, Vegeta was outside his head.  
> But happiness hasn't been earned; at least that's what he tells himself.
> 
> (*in meme format* back at it again with the feels train)
> 
>  
> 
> **Written to:**
> 
>  
> 
> **You're Such A // Hailee Steinfeld**
> 
>  
> 
> **Love & Loss // Two Steps From Hell**

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was nearly below the horizon. He looked down to see that the woman had kicked her way out of his close hold, but not out of his hand entirely. It was strange, feeling relaxed for the first time in maybe his entire life. His body was so relaxed and vulnerable however, that he didn’t even notice an energy source storming up the hallway. Not until it was basically too late.

At the sound of heavy, fast footsteps, Bulma sat straight up, eyes wide. She began scrambling for a shirt but instead opted to pull the covers up over herself. This also tangled Vegeta’s ankles in the blanket as he was trying to get off the bed, causing him to trip and fall to the ground with a thud and a select string of quiet curses. The energy source stopped right outside Bulma’s door before heavy-handed knocking echoed into the room. 

“Bulma, are you in there? Are you ok?! I heard about what happened at the lab! I also heard Vegeta took you from your lab and flew you back here by force! Did he hurt you? He better not have or I swear to _Kami –_ ”

“I’m fucking _fine_ Yamcha!” Bulma screamed, her cheeks burning pink as Vegeta did his best to clean himself with the shirt he had been wearing. Tossing it into her overflowing hamper in the corner of the room, he slipped on his boxers and sweatpants before turning to look at Bulma. “I’m just… I’m not feeling well! I’m stressed and tired!”

Yamcha insisted, knocking a bit lighter. “B, let me in please. I… I’ve been worried about you recently. You’ve been working a lot and… well, I don’t like that you’ve been hanging around Vegeta so much. I know we’re not together anymore but it doesn’t mean I don’t care. He’s dangerous and –”

Before Bulma could stop him, before she could do more than squeak a hurried reply, Vegeta was at her bedroom door and yanking it halfway open. Shirtless and oozing his usual deadly aura, he leaned against her doorframe, blocking his view of the bed behind the door. “She said she doesn’t feel good, so she’s getting some rest. Or is it too _dangerous_ for her to get some sleep?”

Yamcha yelped, his wild hair flying as he scrambled back. All the color drained from his scarred face and Vegeta couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly as the fool nearly fell over himself. “V-V-Vegeta! What are you doing in there? Where’s Bulma?!” He tried to regain some courage it seemed, but his voice cracked and wobbled. “What have you done to her?!”

“Yamcha!” Bulma shrieked from somewhere behind Vegeta. She was shuffling about, probably trying to find something to wear. He tracked her footsteps as she approached him from behind. “He was helping me out! You idiot, he hasn’t done anything to me!”

“Well… I wouldn’t say _that_.” Vegeta shrugged, his mouth forming a passive line as he held the door where it was. The woman gasped, her small hands trying to pry the door open, but she was no match for his Saiyan strength.

“Vegeta! What the hell?!” She smacked his arm instead, and though it didn’t hurt, it made him give her a sidelong look, frowning.

“What?” Vegeta turned his attention back to Yamcha. “I did do something to her. I’ve carried her from her lab to here and helped her get into bed without destroying anymore of her property. You should be thanking me, you weakling.”

Bulma froze beside him, her hand still on his arm, and he stared the earthling down in the hallway. After a few uncomfortable shuffles of his feet, the man cleared his throat and straightened a bit, his cheeks red. “O-oh. Ok well… Bulma, listen, if you need anything, let me know. I’m just a phone call away.”

He turned and, with one last attempt at a glare over his shoulder at Vegeta, he left. With a huff, Vegeta stepped back and closed the door. Bulma was planted in front of him in an instant, having somehow found a large shirt and underwear to throw on. Her hands were on her hips and her head was already pushing into Vegeta’s space. It took more control not to step back than he thought it would.

“Vegeta, what were you thinking?! It isn’t polite to goad people like that!” She picked up one hand and stuck one small, weak finger in his face. “I’m grateful for what you did earlier, and I really did enjoy our time together, but you can’t keep antagonizing my friends! They’ll think you’re still a bad guy!”

Her words hit him like a weight. A few different emotions warred in his chest as he tried to come up with a proper response. He wanted to sound witty, he wanted to sound smart, but rage was the first emotion to answer the call.

“Well _fuck_ Bulma, I _am_ a bad guy! Everyone knows it! You’re the only one stupid enough to think otherwise!” He threw his hands into the air, trying his best not to yell loud enough to call her ex-buffoon back up the hallway. “This planet is moot either way! The androids will either kill us all first, or I’ll win! And when I win, then I’m going to kill Kakarot and then blow up this filthy, backwater planet!”

She startled, suddenly losing her edge. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!”

And, all at once, he’s thrown back to that night months ago. She seems to remember too because she simply folds her arms over her chest, giving him the barest hint of a smile. It feels hollow compared to the one she had given him only hours earlier. “No, you don’t.”

 _She’s a distraction. She wants to change you. Survive. Surviving is all that matters. You don’t need a family._

_Not the point. She’s… she’s right._

_You don’t belong anywhere. You’re a powerful, killing machine, nothing more._

**_Family._ **

He’s tugging at his hair now, his confidence draining from him as he backs away from her. “You stupid, foolish, vain woman! How can you believe that I’m anything but evil! I’ve killed thousands, possibly even millions! I’m the prince of the saiyans, a force to be reckoned with! I’ve even killed your friends!”

Bulma frowned, taking one powerful step forward. She may not have ki, but he felt a different kind of strength rolling off of her in waves. “I believe you aren’t a bad guy because you _aren’t!_ Kami, Vegeta, you may be a royal fucking pain in my ass but you’re also kind! You helped me out countless times! You saved me from falling off my balcony like a drunk, heartbroken idiot, and you let me yell and scream when I need to. You clean up after yourself, you help my mom in the kitchen sometimes, you haven’t even _attempted_ to blow up the Gravity Room again! You’re a cocky, egotistical, prideful alien bastard, sure! I’ll give you that! But you aren’t a _bad guy._ What’s it going to take for you to see that?!”

Her eyes were brimming with tears now, though whether they were angry or sad tears was left unknown to him. He… fuck, he wanted to believe her. Even his own eyes began to sting. But the anger at being undermined, at seeming weak, drowned out all his logic. Drowned out every good thing he had experienced with her in the year and some odd months he had been living here.

_No one talks to the prince of all saiyans that way. Kill, kill, kill, kill._

_No! Can’t hurt her. Can’t!_

_Can’t afford friends. You have to get stronger. Stronger. Kill, kill, kill._

_**She’s a distraction...** _

With a howl, Vegeta stomped back to the sliding glass door and pushed it open a little too hard. The thing tilted off its track and hit the other pane of glass with a crunch and a squeal. He hardly noticed, turning only long enough to turn and glare at Bulma. He knew, deep down, that he was hurting her in a different way, but his rage was pumping at a hundred percent now, and he couldn’t tamp it down. The words were up and out of him before he could blink. “You don’t know me! None of you pathetic earthlings know a fucking thing about me! So stop acting like… like we’re _friends!_ Or fuck-buddies, or whatever! This planet, your friends, and you, are all nothing in the grand scheme of things! I am above that! Do you understand?!”

He poised to take off, but the heavy intake of breath from Bulma rooted him to the spot. She had been following him, and in his hesitance, she reeled her arm back and slapped him. Hard. The tears were spilling down her face now, but the hurt that burned in her eyes is what nearly buckled him. His rage was dissipating faster than he could fight it. His hand came up to touch the red welt that was already forming on his cheek; he had never thought to put up a ki barrier against someone so weak. The stinging of his face told him he had underestimated her.

“Fine, Vegeta.” She snarled, her voice tight. “Think whatever you damn well please. Think that everything I’ve done for you has been a means of harming you, stalling you, holding you back. Go ahead and believe that you are vile and a badass. What the fuck ever! But know this; I’m Bulma fucking Briefs, and I’m never wrong. Not about this company, not about my friends and family, and certainly not about you! So, whenever you’re done being a big fucking _baby,_ and you’re ready to apologize like a man, then come back and see me. Until then, I don’t want to see your stupid, jerk face, understood?!”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode back into her room, her head held high. With a deft, experienced kick, she set the glass door back on its track and slammed it shut, locking it behind her for good measure. He was too shocked to do or say anything. His mind was racing with retorts, but none of them would form on his tongue. Instead, he just watched the one person he could stand to be around turn and flip him off. With one final glare, she drew her curtains shut, shutting him out in the process.

**+.+.+**

Months went by. Two and some weeks, by his count. He hadn’t been able to concentrate during his training sessions. He kept feeling Bulma beneath him, soft and warm. He thought about how careful she had been with him. He kept wishing he could go back and kick himself right in the face because, after everything he had said to her, she had kept true to her word. He hadn’t seen her at all since that night. She seemed to know his own routine too well, knew when to wake, when to eat, when to bathe, just to avoid seeing him. Even Panchy was disappointed with him, if her suddenly quiet demeanor had anything to do with it.

He tried another set of push-ups at 200 times gravity, but his arms gave out. His mind wasn’t focused enough to help him control his ki. He felt crushed, and not just by the gravity pushing into his back. He hadn’t… hadn’t meant to say those things. At least, not with the kind of delivery he had. He still thought Bulma foolish to believe he had an ounce of good in him; that he _deserved_ an ounce of good. But the other things… about how she was nothing in the end. It wasn’t true.

_It isn’t true._

_It should be, idiot. You don’t need her._

**Survive this. Show no weakness.**

Vegeta couldn’t take anymore. He stood with effort and made his way to the control panel and shut it off with a bang of his fist. He couldn’t keep training like this. She was in his head constantly, and no matter how hard he pushed himself, all he could see was Bulma’s watery, disappointed eyes as she defiantly shut him out of her life. He had to make it right, somehow, even if it meant lying to her. It was too difficult walking around the same house and feeling the tension permeate the air like a thundercloud.

With a heavy sigh, he wiped sweat off his face and tossed the soft towel over his shoulder. Stepping out into the early sunlight, he closed his eyes and searched the compound for her ki signature. When he found that she was in her bedroom, he steeled himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t even know what to say. But he would cross that bridge when he got to it. Right now, he had to relieve this painful atmosphere.

He passed by Mrs. Briefs as he headed for the stairs and heard her chirp something about brunch being served soon. He grunted absentmindedly and kept walking, floating up the stairs instead of walking them so as not to alert Bulma. He didn’t want her trying to get away from him this time. He landed softly on the carpet outside her bedroom door and poised his fist to knock.

Muffled talking came from the other side and he paused. He didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t think there was anyone else on Capsule Corps grounds today. Pressing his ear just a bit closer to the door, he realized she must be on the phone. Then, horrified, he realized she was crying.

“I don’t know what to do Chi-Chi. P-please… help me out here. I-I don’t know how to tell my _parents_ , much less Vegeta!”

He stiffened at the mention of his name, curious. What could be so hard to tell him? She never had a problem telling him anything, it seemed. Or her family.

There was a pause and Bulma sobbed softly. “N-no I can’t do that. I won’t do that! I want to keep them but… I don’t know the first thing… I d-don’t know what to do! Yamcha will hate this. _Everyone_ will hate this... everyone will hate _me_! Stupid, stupid, why was I s-so stupid Chi?!”

Vegeta was tempted to kick the door in by now. She was obviously very upset, but with the way she was talking, it was like she killed someone. Or vice versa. But her next words were like a punch to the gut.

“I can’t… I just can’t believe I’m pregnant. I don’t know how to be a mother. I-I don’t want Vegeta to hate me. I don’t want…” The rest of her sentence was lost in her sobs and Vegeta stumbled back, his shoulders slightly bumping the wall.

Had… had he heard her right? There was no way. Not after one time. _One time._ He knew by passing knowledge that most people had to try for child multiple times. Unless… had she been seeing someone else? Maybe that’s why she had been avoiding him? Maybe she was back with that weakling Yamcha. The thought alone made his temper simmer, but he shook it away. No. Bulma wouldn’t sink that low again; he just knew somehow.

But that didn’t change the fact that…

**You fucked up. You can’t afford a family, and now you’ve gone and ruined something good.**

His breathing was ragged, panic rising in him fast and hard. _Fight or Flight._ Half of him wanted to run into Bulma’s room, hold her to him, and tell her she deserved better. Because she did. But the other half was desperately gasping for air, wanting to run and never come back.

_This is for the best, Vegeta. Leave now. You can focus on training. You can become what you were always meant to be. You can claim your birthright. Leave._

**Leave.**

And so, Vegeta did the only thing he seemed to know how to do.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have arrived at the end my friends!  
> *cries with you*  
> I am definitely planning on a part 2 for this! It will be fleshed out just a little better too since I won't have to limit my word count as much next time. :D But man... even though I read and reread the HECK out of this fic, I didn't realize just how loaded with feels I made it!  
> Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed reading it the way I enjoyed writing it for you <3 A huge thank you to the [Vegebulocracy](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Vegebulocracy_Mini_Bang_2019/profile) for hosting this event! It was really fun (and challenging) and I look forward to future events! And a loving, huge thank you (again) to my beta reader [bitchytimemachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchytimemachine/) and to my wonderful artist [HannaBellLecter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaBellLecter/), I love you both! <3  
> Until next time my dudes!


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